The Hero's Formula
by Arlecchina-Rosa
Summary: When a world meeting ends in disaster, America decides that the hero must step in. His plan involves a lot of time poking around England's basement, and something he likes to call "World Peace in a Bottle". It's completely foolproof. Sure, some of the nations probably wouldn't approve, but everyone will thank him later. After all, he's the hero. What could possibly go wrong?
1. Peacemaker Potion

America had been through a lot during his time as a country. He'd successfully declared independence, became a nation, started a democracy, fought (and won) more wars than he really cared to remember, and had even survived growing up on England's cooking. So, climbing through an open window was a piece of cake for the hero, right? Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself.

The window was positioned at exactly the right height to make entry as difficult as possible, and the siding was incredibly slippery, so the only way to get in was to pull yourself up using arm strength alone. Again, that shouldn't be a problem for America, the strongest, bravest, most heroic nation of all. Of course, it probably didn't help that this window had barely anything to hold on to. He frantically grabbed at anything he could, which wasn't much, in what felt like his twentieth attempt at this. Why did Iggy have to make it so hard for well-meaning people to break into his house?

Panting and heaving from the effort, he finally managed to pull himself through England's window, then fell with a thud to the floor of the living room. Perhaps Iggy was right when he suggested laying off the hamburgers, after all.

America pulled himself to his feet, and grinned in triumph. He was in. That hadn't been so hard.

"I did it!" He laughed. "Oh yeah, who's the hero? I'm the hero! Who's the hero? I'm the hero!"

_Dong, dong, dong..._ England's grandfather clock struck three.

"Aw, man, I've gotta hurry!"

He raced through the house, hoping England wouldn't mind if there was a little mud tracked in. He flung open the door to the basement, bright blue eyes blazing with excitement. The adrenaline rush he was getting from what he was about to do nearly overwhelmed him. Flipping on the light switch, he crept down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he pumped the air with his fist. He was the hero, and after today, no one would ever dispute it. He was risking life and limb to do something noble, and, for once, he had absolutely nothing to gain. Well, almost nothing...

He stopped to review his plan once more, if only to bask in its brilliance and utter genius. It was a great plan, worthy of a hero. It would ensure that nothing like the events of the last world meeting would ever happen again.

* * *

It had all started last week. England had been hosting the world meeting. True to form, it had ended in a fight, only this time things had escalated, and soon it wasn't just verbal fighting. First, England and France got into a fight over whose food was better. Spain sided with France, cheering him on, then Romano began encouraging England, just to get on Spain's nerves, and it all went downhill from there. Soon, everyone in the room was either taking sides, or placing bets on who the winner would be. America hated to admit it, but he _may_ have sort of joined in with everyone else. Heroes were supposed to stop fights, not start them, but it was just so much _fun_ to pick on England...

As usual, the three former members of the Axis had not joined in the fighting. Instead, Italy had continued working on his picture of a bunny rabbit, Japan had taken a novel out of his bag and started to read, and Germany had tried to get some paperwork done. Key word, _tried_. The arguments were getting louder, and harder to ignore.

It was then that America's memory had shifted into slow motion. He could always sense it, those last few moments before the ticking time bomb known as Germany would go off. It happened at least once every meeting. Germany would switch to drill sergeant mode, and yell until everyone quieted down. America figured that was why Japan and Italy never got involved in the fights. They had trained under Germany in World War II, and knew not to step out of line.

Yet this time, something had felt different about the atmosphere of the meeting. America had been vaguely aware of Romano trying to strangle Spain for comparing his face to a tomato, and of Liechtenstein begging her brother not to shoot anyone during the world meeting. Both normal. The Baltic nations were hiding from Russia, who was hiding from Belarus (also normal).

England and France were still the center of attention, however. You didn't have to be skilled in reading the atmosphere to pick up on the fact that their fighting was no longer just meaningless bickering. However it had happened, they had both become furious at one another, and, from the look of things, they were actually _trying_ to hurt each other.

Still, the seconds crawled. For the first time, it had entered America's mind that maybe, just maybe, he should do something about this. Yet, for the life of him, he hadn't been able to make his voice work. He looked over at Germany, who never felt any qualms about speaking his mind, but the German hadn't moved a muscle. He had looked about ready to, though.

"Shut up, frog!" England's voice had pushed through the rest.

"...black sheep of Europe can't fight to save his life!"

"At least he fights better than you, you wimpy Frenchman! I ought to..."

"...Ah, there are my spare bullets!..."

"...Bruder, no! I heard someone say you'd be banned from meetings if you damanged any more windows or walls..."

"...kolkolkolkolkolkol..."

"...western nations will never learn manners..."

"...Etiquette originated in Korea, da-ze!"

"...maple leaf..."

"honhonhon..."

"...if you don't take that back, stupid frog, I'll kill you!"

"Go ahead and try, Angleterre..." France's voice held unusual venom. America had begun to worry that perhaps the empty threats they'd been exchanging weren't empty after all.

Then, something had snapped in the meeting room. Well, two things, actually. Firstly, Germany's patience had finally wore thin. He had slammed his papers onto the conference table, shoved his chair back and stood to his feet, ready to lay into each and every errant nation-

_CRACK!_

The painful sound echoed through the meeting room, and everything, everywhere ground to a halt. At first, America's attention had gone to Germany, but the baffled look on his face had made it clear that he was not responsible for the sudden silence.

It was then that America had remembered England and France. His suspicions had been confirmed when he had seen the nasty gash on France's head, and the murderous look on England's face. It seemed that, in a fit of rage, England had lunged at France, whose head had abruptly slammed into one of the table legs.

It wasn't pretty.

The nations of the world stared in shock. Romano had instantly stopped trying to hurt Spain. Liechtenstein and Italy had gasped in horror at the ghastly scene. Switzerland's gun had fallen from his hands and clattered onto the table. Even Russia and Belarus had been strangely still.

Slowly but surely, England's anger had started to wane, and his rationality had finally started to regain control. He'd stared in horror with the rest, dazed green eyes holding unfamiliar panic.

For what seemed like hours, Conference Room H had been frozen in time. No one had dared move. At last, Japan had stood to his feet, and walked over to France. Without saying a word, he had assessed the Frenchman's injuries. Someone else had gone over as well, though he couldn't quite remember who. Maybe it had been... Canadia? He'd looked about ready to cry. France hadn't moved at all, and that had been what scared everyone most.

Germany, never one for waiting on the sidelines (or waiting at all), had been the one to snap the rest out of it. Wasting no time, he had taken charge and begun giving out orders.

"Spain! Romano! Call for an ambulance, _schnell_! Italia, America, help Japan. Someone, anyone, find some bandages, we will need them..."

America had stopped listening after that, and had gone over to where Japan was. The concerned look on Japan's face had not been promising. Italy had just about fainted when he saw all the blood that was pooling on the carpet, and Japan had wisely suggested that Italy go and get Japan's bag of supplies, leaving only America to assist the Asian man in doctoring France.

The rest of the day had been a blur. The ambulance had arrived, though by then France had thankfully regained consciousness. Japan, Spain, and Canadia had rode in the ambulance with him, but everyone else had stayed. Germany had quietly dismissed everyone, and, one by one, the nations had filed out. Not one of them failed to glare at England as they passed him by. America had felt a sort of pity for his former guardian. He knew all too well what the nations were all capable of. War had proved that time and time again. Under slightly different circumstances, it could have been England sent to the hospital.

What had really bothered him, though, was the unpleasant feeling of _guilt_ he felt as he watched England rush out of the meeting room, nearly in tears. He couldn't stop the rogue thoughts that swarmed his mind, telling him that he could have stopped this. He was the hero, he should have stepped in before someone got hurt. But he hadn't. He had stood and watched. But they all had, hadn't they? Every meeting, every time the nations were in the same room, there was chaos. And yet, no one ever tried to stop it. No one had really considered the possibility that someone would actually hurt someone else.

Conference Room H had been empty when America started toward the door. He'd turned back for one last look. The blood on the floor had made him sick. He'd been in wars before, he'd seen blood, but this seemed different. These two countries had been at peace with each other. England had acted of his own accord, without orders from the government, without a declaration of war. It hadn't been England hurting France, it had been Arthur Kirkland hurting Francis Bonnefoy. That was what had made Alfred F. Jones, representative of the United States of America, sick.

Suddenly, America realized that the meeting room behind him wasn't completely empty. Italy and Germany were still there. Germany was sitting in his chair, and Italy stood beside him. Curious, America had hid behind the door and listened. (No, it was not eavesdropping, thank you very much! Heroes don't eavesdrop!)

"~Ve... It's all right, Doitsu... Japan said that France would be okay."

"Yes, I know... But, I should not have allowed it to happen in the first place." He sighed, laying his head on the table. "...Italia, do you know what acquiescence is?"

"~Ve... Is it edible?"

"Nein, Italy. It means to let someone do something, and to relinquish your rights to do something about it. For example, I saw that the meeting was getting out of hand, but did nothing. I did nothing to stop England from hurting France, and therefore surrendered my right, duty, and ability to prevent France's injuries. I acquiesced. Do you understand?"

"Um... Sort of?" Italy had frowned, puzzling over his friend's words. "It's... kind of like waving a white flag, isn't it?"

Germany had nodded in approval at the comparison. "Ja, I suppose you're right. Waving a white flag lets people know that they are free to do what they wish, and you no longer have the right or ability to intervene. You have _surrendered_."

"So, if I see Romano eating my pasta, but do not tell him that it is mine, and let him eat it, I ack- acqui- whatever it was you said, because I did not stop him?"

Germany had almost managed a smile. "Ja, exactly, Italy. And you can't get the pasta _back_, either. You acquiesced your right to your lunch, and it is gone. It is the same in life. Some things can be fixed... and some cannot. France may recover, but that does not change the fact that he has been injured. His country will be affected in some way, I am sure." He sighed. "I feel horrible..."

"~Ve... But you were going to stop them from fighting! I saw you, you didn't want anyone to get hurt!"

"It does not matter. Good intentions are meaningless if they are not followed up by decisive action. Yes, I was going to step in eventually, but I waited too long. It is an important lesson for us all, Italy. It is difficult to do the right thing too soon, but incredibly easy to do the right thing _too late_. I only hope that the other nations will take this to heart. It is a shame that it had to come to... this."

America had begun feeling the guilt again. Yes, this was definitely guilt. Right then and there he had decided that he wasn't going to disregard what had happened. He would learn from this. He could change things, and he would! The hero would make sure that nothing like this ever, _ever_ happened again.

Germany had continued: "...All these pathetic reasons for fighting... Culture, food, personality differences, past grudges, stereotypes... It seems that all we can see when we look at each other is how different we are, instead of focusing on what we have in common... I think that if, for just one meeting, Italy, just one time-" He held up his index finger for emphasis on the number, "-everyone could simply be civil to one another, instead of trying to start WWIII, we would actually get something important done... Not that that will ever happen..."

"Doitsu, you don't know that... Maybe they will learn, like you said..."

"...Perhaps. Unfortunately, that is something they will have to decide for themselves. I cannot force them to want to get along. All I can do is set a good example, and also step in and keep the peace when necessary. And that, Italy, I will do from now on, or at least die trying." He had stood, solemnly placing his hand on his comrade's shoulder. "I promise you that. No more white flags, not ever."

Italy had practically beamed. "~Ve... Okay. I promise too! ...So," Italy grinned, "can we go buy some pasta for lunch, Doitsu?"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Italy, I thought you told me you were bringing your own lunch today."

Italy stared at the ground guiltily. "~Ve... Romano ate it before the meeting..."

"H-he what! Wait, you mean... You were _serious_ about letting him eat your pasta? _Italy_..."

"I'm sorry! He looked like he was enjoying it, so I let him have it... I'm sorry for acqui- acq- ...waving a white flag! Don't be mad at meeee!"

"...I am not mad at you, Italy. Acquiescing your pasta to your brother is not going to do any long term harm, except perhaps to my wallet. I suppose I was asking for it, though... Come on, I think we have time to get something to eat."

They had left after that, and America had spent a long time thinking. A really long time. His mind was racing with countless ideas, plans, but they all seemed rather silly. Were his ideas at the meetings this pathetic? He couldn't get Italy and Germany's words out of his head.

"..._pathetic reasons for fighting_..."

"..._maybe they will learn_..."

"..._just one meeting, just one time_..."

"..._something they will have to decide for themselves_..."

"..._cannot force them to want to get along_..."

It was then that it hit America. The answer. It had been there all along, but he'd never seen it before now. It was... genius!

* * *

And that brought him to now. That was why he was standing in England's damp, musty basement, looking for the impossible. If he could find the impossible, and make it possible, then he would truly be the real hero of the world. Take that, Superman!

He looked around, searching for the entrance to England's secret room, where he worked on all his important things. It was hidden in a wall, but which wall? At last he found it, and pushed it open. For just a moment, he was scared that England would be in there, but he quickly dismissed the notion. England was out today. He'd been avoiding the other nations, for the most part, but had agreed a few weeks ago to go with Japan to see some artsy museum or something today. Japan, always sensing the mood, decided it would probably be bad for England's self-esteem if everyone _completely_ ignored him, and came to pick him up right on schedule. America would have to thank Japan later.

England's secret room was old and dusty, but still meticulously neat. Ancient books lined the walls, probably all in some sort of order, but America still wasn't sure where to begin. Some seemed to be in another language, so he skipped those from the start. Sure, he was the melting pot of diversity, but he didn't have time to try to translate right now.

_All right, I need a book of potions. If I were a potion book, where would I be?_

Apparently, not where America was looking. He must have scanned hundreds of titles before deciding he needed a break. He sat down at a wooden table that was covered with various apparatus that could have come out of a fantasy film. A big book was open in front of him. He flipped it shut and glanced at the title.

_The Englishman's Guide to Potions__, by James Dodd._

Go figure.

He turned to the table of contents, and began to read through them.

_Table of Contents_

_ Chapter One - Introduction to Using Potions - pg. 3_

_ Chapter Two - Supplies and Ingredients - pg. 26_

_ Chapter Three - Basic Formulas - pg. 42_

_ Chapter Four - Transformations - pg. 55_

_ Chapter Five - General Potions - pg. 78_

_ Chapter Six - Rules and Tools of the Trade - pg. 93_

_ Chapter Seven - Common Mistakes - pg. 119_

_ Chapter Eight - Brief History of the Origin of Potions - pg. 130_

_ Chapter Nine - Mixing it Up - pg. 167_

_ Chapter Ten - Love Potions and Such - pg. 184_

_ Chapter Eleven - Sleeping Potions - pg. 211_

_ Chapter Twe-_

Wait. Love Potions and Such? Would that have what he wanted?

_Well, what I need is not so much a love potion as it is a "like potion", but it's as good a place to start as any, right?_

He'd heard England mention his book of potions, formulae, and compounds before, and had even heard him say once that he actually had such a potion that would make people like each other, but that he'd never had a real reason to use it, since, as he said, who doesn't love England?

Poor, naive, delusional England.

America flipped through the book until he reached page one hundred eighty-four. The writing was all in really old English, with thees, and thous, and therefores, so it made absolutely no sense.

At last, however, he reached the part about the actual potions.

..._If thou dost wish a potion to win the heart of a fair maiden, then you must use this potion, tried and true._

Nope.

_The potion described here causes whoever drinks of it to become loved by all._

Nada. Though, it could be useful, in the event he ever did something exceptionally stupid. Not that _he_ would ever had to worry about that, of course.

..._This potion dost cause the drinker to sleep, until they are woken by true love's kiss._

Oh, no. He was not going to kiss anyone, no way, no how.

_Peacemaker Potion_

Hmm... What's this?

_If a squabble doth arise_

_ With hateful words exchanged_

_ This useful potion do apply_

_ And peace will be arranged_

_ All who drink shall have no choice_

_ But to selflessly comply_

_ Always putting others first_

_ Until the day they die_

Perfect. This was what he needed, no doubt about it.

_But the curse of agreeability_

_ Is dangerous, so heed_

_ The warnings listed here below_

_ As thy new sacred creed_

Huh? Warnings?

_'Tis always better for humans_

_ To choose to get along_

_ So before using this take care_

_ That thou dost not tread wrong_

Wrong? The hero? Never.

_Friendship, peace and harmony_

_ Are lofty goals, it's true_

_ But falsified, the value's lost_

_ And consequences accrue_

_ But if the pros outweigh the cons_

_ And you feel it's worth the price_

_ The recipe we give to thee_

_ And hope it doth suffice_

After that, there was a list of ingredients and instructions. Some of the components were things he'd never heard of before, while others, like buttermilk, or crushed rose petals, he was definitely familiar with. For the next hour or two, he scoured England's house for the necessary ingredients. Once he'd found them, he got to work on making the potion. It was slow going, but he wanted to make sure he didn't botch it up.

"All right, now I need to put it on the burner, and set it on low heat for half an hour. Got it." He set the mixture onto the warming device, then sat down to wait.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

"OH MY GOSH THIS IS TAKING FOREVER!"

He glanced at his watch. It had been three minutes. Only twenty-seven to go.

_Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick..._

America looked at his watch again. Twenty-six minutes to go.

"Oh, I'm not gonna make it. I'm going to die down here, and no one will ever find me... Hey there, little flying green bunny thing over there... Whoa, I must be going crazy, bunnies don't have wings... Anyway, tell Canadia he can have my yoyo, all my IHOP restaurants, and my collection of records from the Beach Boys... England can have my libraries, I never used them much anyway... Oh, gosh, who's gonna inherit my house? I can't give it to England, he'd make everyone dress up in suits for work and use proper grammar and eat _British food_...

"WAIT! Oh, no, no, no, no! Who's gonna take care of Mickey D's after I'm gone? No one appreciates it like I do... I'm so sorry, Big Mac! I TRIED! I tried..."

_Ding, dong..._

The doorbell rang, startling him out of his depressed, slightly panicked state.

He ran upstairs, hoping beyond hope it wasn't England.

Please don't be Iggy, please don't be Iggy, please don't be Iggy-

"~Ve? Mr. England, are you home?"

Oh, good. It's just Italy.

Oh, shoot, it's _Italy_...

America opened the door, and saw that it was, in fact, Italy. He hoped Italy didn't need anything major. Then again, Italy had been scared to death of England since World War II, and the events of last week probably hadn't helped Italy's opinion of the British man. There was really no way Italy would even think of stopping by England's house if it wasn't something important.

"Um, hi, Italy... What can I do for you?"

"~Ve... Hi, Mr. America! I just wanted to ask Mr. England something. What are you doing here? Are you visiting Mr. England?"

"What? N-no, of course not, I was just checking up on everything... Iggy's not here right now, so maybe you could come back later? He went with Japan today, didn't you know?"

"He went with Japan? Cool! I guess I'll just wait here with you until he gets back..."

"Um... I'm not so sure that's such a good idea," America protested, but Italy easily slipped past him. He ran into the living room and flopped onto the sofa.

"~Ve... This couch is bouncy!" Italy declared, bouncing up and down on it. America cringed.

_Iggy's going to kill me if he breaks something._

America walked over to the couch and sat down. "Italy, what exactly did you want to ask England?" _And, more importantly, why couldn't you have gone and asked Germany?_

"I wanted to ask him if he could use his special magic to show me how to put love into my pasta!"

Que? No comprendo, Italia. ...Loco, muchos?

"What do you mean, put love into your pasta?"

"~Ve... Spain gave me a churro the other day, and said it was made with love! It tasted so good, so I want to learn how to put love into my cooking, too! But I've tried, and tried, and I don't know how!"

America had two choices. He could explain to Italy what a figure of speech was, and tell him that love wasn't really an ingredient you could put in churros, or pasta, thus ruining his innocent view of life and love forever. Or, he could preserve Italy's naïveté, mess with the little Italian's head, and also quite possibly have some fun while he was at it.

Choice two wins, hands down.

"Well, Italy, it's like this. Love is very special, and putting it into food is hard. There's a special secret. Now, when Spain gave you your churro, what did he do?"

"~Ve... He gave me a hug, and said I was cute in my football uniform!"

"Exactly!" America cried, deciding to go with it. "See, when you make the food, you have to think really hard about how much you love the person. Then, when you give it to them, you give them a big hug, and a compliment. But that's only part of it."

"It is? What else do I have to do?"

"Well..." America racked his brain for an idea. "You have to... sing."

"~Ve... Sing?"

"Yeah, when you're making the food, you have to sing about the person you're cooking for."

"~Ve! I do that all the time! I love to sing. When I lived with Mr. Austria, we'd sing all the time! Me, and Miss Hungary, and Mr. Austria, and..." Here his voice fell, and his cheerful expression dimmed. "Is... Is that all I have to do, Mr. America?"

"Yep! And make sure to tell them you love them, too. They won't know it's made with love, unless you tell them."

Italy rebounded almost instantly. "Okay! This sounds like so much fun! I want to try it right away!"

"Well, then, you'd better get going... It looks like it'll be time for dinner soon..."

"~Ve... You're right! I have to go home and make-a some pasta!" He jumped up from his spot on the couch, then reached down and gave America a hug. "Thank you, Mr. America..."

America grinned. "Just call me '_the hero_'."

* * *

After Italy left, America walked around England's house for a while. It was quiet, unlike America's house, which always had patriotic tunes playing. It was different, but not entirely unpleasant, being here. In fact, it was a refreshing change not to always have something happening. Not that he'd ever admit that to England, however.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that he remembered the potion. He scrambled downstairs, praying he hadn't ruined it. It had been thirty-two minutes exactly.

"Ah, well, two extra minutes won't hurt it... I think."

He stirred the potion slowly, watching the trailing ripples. He glanced over at the book, to see if there were any more instructions.

_The final piece you must add now_

_ Just one lock of human hair_

_ This, we feel, shall seal the deal_

_ And you'll have potency to spare_

America frowned. Well, this was new. Why did they need a piece of his hair? He grabbed a pair of scissors off of the table, and, without giving it a second thought, he snipped off one of his light brown locks and dropped it into the container. He stared at the liquid, waiting for a reaction. Nothing.

"Aww, really? Come on, it should at least do something, like change colors, or explode!"

He glared at the mixture. Potions shouldn't just sit there. Especially when he'd just added a lock of awesome, heroic, nation hair.

Oh.

Wait a second.

He was a nation. So, technically speaking, he wasn't exactly a human. Would that mess with the potion? He frowned. It probably had. That was why the potion wasn't working, that was why it was still just a boring pool of red liquid...

Wait. Red? Had it always been red? He could have sworn it used to be a murky grey color.

He watched the container, and was suddenly seized with a burst of ecstasy as the potion began to change again. The red began to dissipate into a creamy white, making peppermint swirls in the bowl. Then, it was replaced by a deep blue, till only traces of the white were left, dotting the navy sea. Eventually, the white faded into the blue, and did not change again.

It took him a moment to realize the significance.

Red.

White.

Blue.

The colors of the American flag. _His_ flag.

"It worked!" America cried. "I can't believe it worked!" He began to dance around the room, possessed by the energy, the potential in the concoction he'd created. He laughed like a mad scientist, because, in a way, he was. Alfred Jones, entrepreneur and scientist extraordinaire, had found the ultimate cure to selfish fighting, and the formula for world peace. The thought gave him such a high that he was afraid he might pass out. In a completely manly and heroic way, of course. Because at that moment, there was no one more heroic than the _hero_ himself.

Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as America, was on top of the world.


	2. Entre Nous

A/N

Hi there! Sorry I forgot to put an author's note in the last chapter, my bad... This is my first fanfiction I'm posting here, and I hope you like it! I've been writing for a while, but I've never posted anything here, or anywhere, before. I'd love advice, criticism, anything, really. I know I'm not the best, but I do want to improve.

Anyway, this is a story about everyone's favorite hero, America, and his rather unconventional quest for world peace. There's some drama and some humor (and sometimes an unholy mix of both). There aren't any pairings in this, because I prefer writing about friends and siblings rather than romantic relationships. I do have some ideas for some stories with romance in them, but I decided to stick more to canon with this.

On a side note, from this chapter onward, the chapter titles will be names of songs that seem to go with the chapter. Feel free to listen while reading. After much consideration, I've changed this chapter's song to _Entre Nous_ by Ludovico Einaudi and Ballake Sissoko. I searched and searched for a purely platonic, 'I'm sorry, I really don't hate you,' song, but I could not find one, so have some lovely instrumental music. I thought that the two contrary and yet strangely complementary parts seemed to fit France and England fairly well. And yes, their relationship is entirely meant to be taken as platonic. I do not ship France/England or any other slash pairing. I see France and England as frenemies, who do think highly of each other but can't help but fight due to immense cultural differences and their polar-opposite personalities.

Thank you for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites on the first chapter! (Is very flattered)

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. I do own the idea for this story, though.

* * *

The Principality of Sealand, once a lowly British fort but now an aspiring country, hummed happily to himself as he skipped through the front door and into Denmark's living room—the unofficial Nordic meeting place. Hanatamago ran to meet Sealand, barking happily at the sight of her young master. Sealand grinned.

"Come here, Hana! Who's a good girl? You are, Hana, you're such a good girl..." Sealand kneeled down and petted the white dog, cooing over her. No one could resist Hana's cuteness. Not even intimidating Sweden, who wasn't one for showing emotion, could keep his gruff exterior up indefinitely when the dog was around.

Speaking of the Swede, he was standing by the stone-carved fireplace, flipping through an old book. Finland was playing chess with Iceland, and Denmark was teasing Norway. Sealand smiled. He liked it when all the Nordics were together, and getting along (for the most part). Such things weren't as common as they used to be.

Hanatamago barked, and pulled away from Sealand, running around the room to each of the Nordic nations, jumping up and down in a bout for attention. Everyone laughed at the little dog, and even Iceland managed a rare smile.

"Hi, everybody!" Sealand said happily, rushing over to Finland and giving him a hug, then did the same to Sweden, and each of the other nations in turn.

"H'llo, Seal'nd," said Sweden.

The rest of the Nordics voiced their greetings to the little micronation as well. It gave Sealand a warm, happy feeling to know that, in his own special way, he'd found a family to call his own. A rather dysfunctional family, yes, but what nation could really, truly say that their family was normal? And even if there were such people in the world, Sealand certainly didn't want to be one of them. Too boring. He'd rather decorate the Christmas tree with Finland, play football or hockey with Sweden, listen to Norway tell him those cool fairy tales, watch Denmark polish his axe, or even just have a quiet conversation with the mysterious Iceland. He'd take the Nordics over someone as boring as that tea-drinking jerk England any day.

"So, little buddy, how's the whole 'country recognition' plan coming?" Denmark asked.

"Great!" Sealand cried. He held up his red, white and black notebook proudly. "I've been working really hard on gaining awareness for my cause! I've already got _de facto_ acknowledgement from a few countries, even if they're being a little stubborn about it..."

"Don't worry, Sealand, they'll all come around eventually," Finland said, beaming.

"Yeah, I know. Someday everyone will know the great empire known as Sealand! I'll be stronger than... Hmm... What was a really big, strong empire, Mister Sweden?"

"Duh, the Vikings," Denmark said.

"He wasn't asking you," Norway retorted. "Though, the Viking age _was_ a glorious time."

"I'd say the Ottoman Empire was pretty strong," Finland said.

"Roman Empire was bigger..." Iceland said quietly, for no reason except to disagree with his brothers.

"S'viet."

Everyone looked over at Sweden.

"...He's got a point."

"So he does."

Finland knelt down to Sealand's level. "Sealand, Soviet Russia was extremely powerful, as were all the other empires throughout history... But they were too strong for their own good. Promise me you won't try to be like Russia, or Rome, or any of those nations who tried to rule the world. They took down countless people on their way to the top, only to fall to the ground once there was nowhere else to go..."

Sealand thought this over for a moment. "Okay. I won't try to take over the world." He frowned. "But, can I at least try to get recognized as a country?"

Finland laughed. "Of course you can, Sealand. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Good. Then, I have something to ask." _All right, just pose it casually. He'll say yes, if you stay calm and sound mature..._

"What is it?"

Sealand took a deep breath. "Can I go to the meeting with you tomorrow?"

"WHAT?" the five Nordics asked in unison.

"Pleeeeease, Mister Finland? I'll be good, I promise! I won't declare war on anyone, at least not before lunchtime! I'll sit quietly, and listen to all the speeches, even if they're boring! I just want to go to one meeting, that's all!"

"We've discussed this, Sealand. I don't think you're old enough to go to the meetings yet."

"Pretty please?"

"No, Sealand."

"Even if I-"

"No."

"But I-"

"_No_."

Sealand realized he was not going to get anywhere with Finland, so he snuck over to where Sweden was.

"Mister Sweden, would it be alright if I-"

"I'm s'rry, Seal'nd, but F'nland's right."

"Aww... Please, Sweden?" He gave the adorable, pleading puppy-dog eyes that he'd seen used by Hanatamago (and also America, on occasion).

"...Not y't, Seal'nd. Wh'n you're old'r, m'ybe."

_Drat. I thought for sure that the puppy-dog eyes would work._

He sidled up to Denmark and Norway. "Hey, Den, Norge? Can you talk to Finland and Sweden? They're being mean and won't let me go to the meeting."

Denmark spoke first. "Kiddo, listen to them, they know what they're talking about. Besides, meetings are majorly boring. Why would you want to go to a meeting where people fight over the economy, and global warming, and whether America's president's socks matched his tie?"

"Well... The meetings aren't always boring..." Norway said. "I mean, just last week, they sent everyone home and canceled the rest of the meetings, all because England-"

Finland and Sweden shot him a look that clearly said, 'Don't you dare finish that sentence'.

"Because England _what_? What did jerk England do?" Sealand's curiosity was piqued.

Denmark laughed awkwardly. "Uh, it's not important. Norge doesn't know what he's talking about."

"But, I want to know! _Why_ did you all come home early last week? Please tell me..." He ran over to Iceland. "Do you know, Ice?"

Iceland frowned. "You don't want to know."

"I do! I really, really do!"

"No, you really, really don't," Denmark said.

"But I have to know! I'm never going to grow up into a big, strong, capable country if you won't even tell me what's going on in the world!"

Finland sighed. "Sealand... Will you stop asking about that if we let you tag along to the meeting tomorrow?"

Sealand instantly perked up. "Really? You mean it?"

"Sure. I can't say you'll enjoy it, though. The meetings _are_ boring, and they usually end with everyone fighting over pathetic things. Sometimes I don't even know why we have so many World Conferences; it's not as though we actually get anything done."

"Oh, thank you, Finland! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" All Sealand had heard of Finland's lengthy speech was: "Sure... enjoy it..."

Finland couldn't help but smile at the young boy. "All right, you better get your things together. We'll be leaving really early in the morning." He walked over to the phone. "I'll call Germany and make sure it's okay."

Sealand happily ran off to his room to get ready, while the Nordics exchanged apprehensive glances. It had been at least a year since the last time the boy had even been at a meeting. He'd disguised himself as Canada that time, in a rather ironic attempt to get noticed. (Really? What had he been thinking when he chose _Canada_, of all people?)

"Um, hello? Mr. Germany?" Finland asked. "Oh, hello, Prussia." He sighed. "Could I talk to Germany, please? Yes, I'll wait. Thank you, Prussia..." He waited quietly while Prussia went off to find his brother.

"Hey! Finland! D'ya think I should bring the 'Sealand Guard' with me tomorrow, so Jerk England knows to leave me alone?" Sealand's voice echoed down the stairs.

"Oh, Sealand, I don't think that's necessary..."

"Okay, if you say so…" There was a brief pause. "Oh! What about Hana? Can we bring Hanatamago to the meeting? I think she'd like it!"

"NO!" The Nordics all yelled at once.

* * *

England gazed up at the long stone walkway that led to France's house in Normandy. It was lined with red roses, all in bloom, and it was absolutely stunning. For the first time that week, the relentless rain had finally ceased. The sky was now blue again, the sun was shining, and the birds were chirping. Summer was still valiantly hanging on, persevering despite the fact that autumn was always following close on its heels.

Looking at all the beauty and peace outside, it would be so easy to forget that the French stock market had suffered the fall of the decade just last week. But it had. Brokers were utterly baffled, having no clue why something of this magnitude had happened with no warning, but England knew. He was all too aware that he'd caused this. All of this. France was suffering because of _his_ stupidity, _his_ blasted temper.

He forced himself to take a few steps forward. It had been about a week since the infamous meeting, and England had finally gotten up the courage to visit France.

He glanced back at Japan, who was waiting in the car. Emotionless as usual, Japan gave a silent 'thumbs up', before turning back to his manga.

After Japan and England had visited the museum, Japan had subtly hinted that perhaps it would be a good idea for England to go see France. England had protested, of course, but Japan had been firm. England must apologize, and from the heart. Anything else would be insulting to them both. So, here he was, armed with a bouquet of hydrangeas and a croissant from a nearby French bakery, since apparently his _own_ cooking wasn't all that good.

He would apologize to the frog, and they could get back to fighting like civilized nations. It was simple and guaranteed to work.

But if that was true, then why did he feel so bloody nervous?

He walked up the stone pathway, and with each footstep the pounding in his ears grew louder. Every inch of him wanted to run back to the safety of Japan's car and never talk to France again for as long as he lived, but something kept him moving forward. Still, the doubts came, like waves on the shore, over and over.

_What if he's still mad at me?_

_What if he won't listen?_

_What if he slams the door in my face?_

_What if he hates me?_

He shouldn't care. Really, he shouldn't. He _liked_ hating France, and didn't care if the feeling was mutual. France was a complete moron.

Maybe not enough of a moron to warrant sending him to the urgent care center, but a moron all the same.

_Why am I doing this?_

Japan, mostly. The Asian nation was typically meek, but could be very insistent when he wanted to be.

Also, the British prime minister had been furious that England would fight with another nation, his ally, during a time of peace nonetheless. There had been a very stern scolding, but England had said nothing during the tirade, just sat there and took it in. He was the representative of England, and practically the whole United Kingdom as well, (his brothers were virtually useless,) and he'd been through far more than lectures in his time.

Still, the words had stung, especially since he couldn't entirely deny the fact that he'd botched things up, and quite possibly injured political ties between the French and the English.

He was a nation; he had more things to think about than merely himself. For the sake of his people, he would do this. There, that was good. He didn't need to really be repentant. The apology was to preserve peace and make the prime minister happy.

England walked up the porch steps, and then, emboldened by his new motivations, rang the doorbell. He could faintly hear it chiming throughout the house. _La Marseillaise_, he thought. Nowhere near the caliber of 'God Save the Queen', but a decent tune all the same.

After what felt like an eternity, the doorknob rattled, and the door swung inward. A very tired looking Francis Bonnefoy appeared on the other side. He was still in his robe, despite it being afternoon, and almost looked like he'd just woken up. Maybe he had. It hadn't occurred to England that France might still be sleeping, still recovering from his injuries.

"_Angleterre_?"

"H-Hello, France..."

"What do you want?" The resentment was all too plain in those four short syllables. Anger smoldered in his eyes. Despite his disheveled appearance, he still stood tall and proud, as always.

England suddenly felt very, very small in comparison.

Maybe he really did have a reason to be sorry.

"Um, France? I... have something to say to you."

_All right, here we go. It's now or never..._

* * *

Japan sat in the car, pretending to read his new manga. In reality, he was watching England and France out of the corner of his eye. He did hope they would get over their feud. If France stayed mad at England, then England would become angry again as well, and that wouldn't do _anything_ to help the world situation. The nations present last week had all been affected, that much was obvious. Exactly how much each of them had been affected, or how they would react, Japan didn't know.

He did know that England felt very bad about what happened, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to come and apologize. The Englishman's worst flaw was his pride, and he always had difficulty apologizing for anything.

France was recovering, slowly but surely. Japan had talked to him several times in the past week, and he'd seemed all right, though slightly more... reflective than usual. Perhaps he, too, had learned something from all of this.

Germany had been acting extremely distant from everyone, (more than usual, anyway,) and increasingly quiet. Japan had been meaning to ask Italy-kun about it, but hadn't seen him at all since the meeting.

Canada had been devastated, and had spent the ambulance ride alternating between comforting France and coming up with increasingly painful ways to punish England. Japan did not think he would actually go through with any of them, but one could never be sure.

Japan's phone rang. He flipped it open. There was a message from America.

_Yo, Japan! R u still with Iggy?_

_Indeed, America-san. We are visiting France._

There was a long wait before the next message came.

_Dude... Really? U sure that's such a good idea?_

Japan looked up at the house, just in time to see France pull England into a long-overdue hug. He smiled.

_Hai, America-san. I am._

* * *

America grabbed his bomber jacket from where he'd flung it over a chair, then scooped the newly crafted vial of potion off the table. He shoved his phone in his pants pocket, and jogged up the stairs. He slid his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, sighing contentedly at the familiar aromas of leather, burgers, and all things American. It was a refreshing change from all the... _Britishness_ he'd had to put up with today.

Then, he reached into his left jacket pocket for his keys, he would need them for the next step in his brilliant plan. He came up empty.

_Hmm... That's odd... I always keep my keys in there... Come to think of it, I didn't use my keys this morning, my pilot Jeff flew me across the pond in the private jet, but my keys should still be in my pocket..._

He retraced his steps through the house, but found no trace of his keys.

_I couldn't have left them at home, could I? The hero would never forget something like that!_

Huffing in frustration, he walked into England's kitchen, then sat down at the kitchen table. It was then that he noticed a key ring. England's key ring, to be precise.

_Oh, that's right, he went in Japan's car, _America thought to himself. _Well, at least I'm not the only one who forgot their keys today... Hey, wait a minute._

He grinned deviously as he picked up the key ring from the countertop. Sure enough, England had a key to the conference room in the Hotel Carson, where the meeting was to be held tomorrow. If fact, he had keys for each of the meeting rooms in every country that had ever hosted a world conference. It made for one heavy key ring, but America was suddenly very thankful that his former guardian was so conscientious.

_I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow them for a little while..._

He used a key neatly labeled 'The London House' to unlock the front door, then stepped out into the afternoon sun. It was only a ten-minute jog to the Hotel Carson, then a twenty-minute jog to the airfield. He would be back home before anyone even thought to notice he was absent.

Twenty-five minutes later (who knew it was so difficult to carry a volatile potion while running through the streets of London?) he arrived at the Hotel Carson. He slipped in through the back, made it to the lobby, and took the stairs to the fifth floor, all while doing his very best to avoid attracting attention. How he wished he had his brother Canada's invisibility powers right now...

Eventually, he reached the conference room. He unlocked the door, and tiptoed in. The small fridge loaded with food and drinks for the conference was labeled with a sign reading:

_All contents for the World Conference at 9 tomorrow. Not to be eaten by staff, or tampered with in any way._

_~Arthur Kirkland_

Tampered with? Wait, did spiking all the drinks with an untested potion count as tampering? It probably did, come to think of it. Leave it to Iggy to guilt trip him like that. He quickly shrugged off the feeling. He was doing everyone, including England, a favor here.

Carefully, he cracked open the fridge and surveyed the contents. Given that there were representatives from almost every country around the world, there was a wide variety of choices. It wasn't too hard to figure out which things were for each nation, for example, the Vodka was definitely for Russia, the iced tea was for England, and the coffee was probably for Spain, but, then again, lots of different nations drank coffee...

He carefully took the vial and proceeded to pour the slightest amount of the formula into each of the containers, putting a little extra in the favorite drinks of those nations who were particularly inclined to fight. He considered not spiking the soda, because that was _his_ favorite, but he figured he could always stop by McDonalds on the way to the meeting tomorrow. There was one just down the street from here, if his 'McDonalds Finder App' spoke the truth.

Once he finished, he shut the fridge, and threw the now nearly-empty vial into a nearby trash can. It wasn't as though he'd need it again, right?

He smoothly made his exit, locking the door behind him, and doing his best to look like someone who was supposed to be there, not someone who'd just broken into the Conference Room (though technically, it wasn't _breaking_ _in_ if you had the keys, even if said keys weren't really yours), and tampered with the contents of a fridge that was clearly not supposed to be tampered with.

He took the elevator down to the first floor, then walked out the front. It was too late to head home now—there wouldn't be enough time to fly back for the meeting tomorrow—so America decided to find an inexpensive motel here in London where he could crash for the night. As he walked through the slowly emptying streets, he again felt a rush of... that odd _something_ that kept coming back as the day wore on. He couldn't place the emotion, but it made him feel strangely eager to see what tomorrow morning would bring.

* * *

And so ends another chapter. I hope you liked it!

Yes, America weaseled his way in at the end. I'll probably show his point of view at least once in every chapter, just to show his reactions to the success (or lack thereof) of his plan. It seems to be going all right at the moment, but magic never seems to work out the way you expect...

Also, how did I do with the Nordics? I've never written about them before, and my knowledge of them is limited. I'm trying my best to keep everyone in character.

Now for some facts about the chapter:

There really is a McDonald's app. I looked it up.

Also, the Sealand Guard is real. As far as I know, it acts as a national security and law enforcement agency for Sealand.

_La Marseillaise_ (The Song of Marseilles) is the French national anthem.


	3. Invisible

**Hello, everyone! Chapter Three is done! We've reached the morning of the infamous meeting, and everything seems to be going as planned... so far.**

**There are actually two songs for this chapter, both with the same name. The first is by Jaded Era, and the second is by Skylar Grey. I like the Skylar Grey song a little better, but they both fit Canada nicely, since he's... well... _invisible_.**

**Also, I'm pleased to announce that we have a winner for the rather informal challenge I held last chapter. Yes, animefairi guessed correctly! It is indeed Canada who has America's keys, and he's got a plan in the works as we speak. Congratulations, animefairi! I'm working on your prize as we speak! So... let's check up on our favorite Canadian, shall we?...**

* * *

Chapter Three

At precisely 7:35 a.m., a young blond man carrying a toy polar bear under his arm strolled through the front door of the Hotel Carson. No one noticed him enter. He was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt and black slacks, and had a red and white backpack slung over his shoulder. His violet eyes drank in all the grandeur of the magnificent hotel lobby, and he nodded in silent admiration.

He crossed the lobby, and silently boarded the elevator. There were several people on the elevator, but not one truly acknowledged his presence. His presence was captured and recorded on all the security cameras, but if you were to ask anyone who'd been in the hotel that day, they would have absolutely no recollection of ever having seen him before. It was a typical occurrence for Matthew Williams, and he was quite used to it.

Departing the elevator on the fifth floor, he tiptoed down the hall, careful not to make any noise. Not that it would have made any difference, of course. He could have made all the noise he wanted, and still not have brought an ounce of attention to himself.

He reached the door to Conference Room H at 7:38. After fishing around in his pocket for the key ring he'd "borrowed" from his American brother yesterday morning, he carefully unlocked the door. When that was completed, he pushed open the oak door and made his way inside. He locked the door behind him, just in case. He shifted his backpack to the opposite shoulder, and casually brushed his long, pale hair back. He whispered something to the polar bear, then set it down on the table. He placed his backpack on a chair, then began a methodical walk around the table. He read each place card silently, violet eyes peering over the frames of his glasses. Each time, he gave a small grumble of annoyance, as it wasn't the one he was looking for.

Three quarters of the way around the table, his eyes lit up with triumph. He picked up the card and read it twice through, just to be sure.

It read: _A. Kirkland, representative of England, and de facto representative of the United Kingdom._

Canada grinned. _Bingo_.

He quickly walked back around the table to retrieve his backpack, then returned to the chair designated for Arthur Kirkland. He unzipped the bag, and pulled out a small box. A box filled with thumbtacks. Then, carefully, he began to remove the tacks, one by one, and placed them on the chair. They were small enough not to do any real damage, but painful enough to get the point across. He'd thought long and hard about this, and of one thing he was certain. No one messed with Matthew Williams and got away with it, and the same went for those who messed with Matthew's friends. He would make sure England never dared to step out of line again. Ever.

Canada smiled as he remembered the day that the America and Spain had teased Ukraine, and made her cry. The next day had been..._ interesting,_ to say the least. Who knew that white flour made such a mess? Germany had been furious about that, but, oh, it had been worth it.

Once he finished putting the tacks onto the chair, he placed the empty box in his backpack, and stood to his feet, gazing in pleasure at his handiwork. Then, after picking up Kumajirou, he began to head toward the door. No reason for people to know he had been here early. As far as the other nations were concerned, Matthew Williams, representative of Canada, had been sleeping in his hotel room this whole time.

Suddenly, Canada heard the distinct sound of someone attempting to use a key to unlock a door. More specifically, the door to Conference Room H.

"_What? Who in their right mind would be here this early_?"

"_Well, you're here..." _ Kumajirou replied drily.

_Touché._

Canada looked around for a place to hide, but then made the decision that whoever it was probably wouldn't notice him anyway. If worst came to worst, he could always pretend to be America. He was always getting confused for Al, so it was almost easier to just roll with it when someone made the all too common mistake.

Yes, he could definitely be America. Just had to act loud, arrogant, and important.

"Okay, Mr. Kumakichi, just stay quiet, eh?" Canada whispered to the bear.

"_Who are you again_?"

"I'm America."

* * *

Germany growled in frustration at the fickle lock. Try as he might, it just wasn't turning. He had forced the key every possible way, but the lock was resolute. Fighting back a yawn, he withdrew the key, tracing its teeth with his gloved hand. The key was old, even by his standards. It was bent in places from being forced the wrong way, and was beginning to rust on the edges.

_This is great. Just great. I'm stuck outside the conference room because my key isn't working. Why did you have to choose today to get all bent out of shape, Herr Key? Couldn't it have waited till after the World Conference?_

Sighing in exasperation, he took the key and tried it once more.

*_Click_*

_ Ja, that is more like it, little key._

He stepped through the door, shutting it behind him. Just as he reached his chair, a particularly strong wave of vertigo swept over him. Groaning, he set his papers down on the table, and sat down, putting his head in his hands as he waited for the spell to pass. It _would_ pass, it had to. It always did, if he waited long enough.

At last the vertigo subsided, and it was then that he noticed... America? Why was America here so early? It wasn't at all like him to be punctual. And when had he started bringing a toy polar bear to meetings?

"Oh, hello, America," he said politely.

The man smiled, something akin to relief flashing across his face. "Hey, Germany... Um, dude, it's, like, cool to see you! What's up, man?" The air of nonchalance seemed forced, and he was blinking rapidly behind his glasses.

Germany frowned. This defied everything he had established from previous encounters with the American. What was wrong with him? Could he still be shaken up about the last meeting? It was possible. Germany himself hadn't slept well at all in the nights following the incident.

"Uh, ja, likewise..." He replied off-handedly. "I am here to prepare for the meeting, as always." He tried to figure out how to ask America what he was doing actually showing up on time for once. He didn't want to come across as rude, or hurt the American's feelings. Oh, why couldn't he be good at this sort of thing, like Japan? Japan would know what to do in this situation. _Japan, where are you?_

"America? May I ask you something?"

"Yeah, no problem! Ask away, the, uh, _hero_ is here to help!"

Germany wasn't buying it, but decided to play along anyway.

"Danke, America. I'm extremely grateful for your help. It's rather silly, I know, but you probably would be the best person to ask."

America began to look rather nervous. He gripped his polar bear tighter.

"Oh, I am?" He squeaked, looking more pale by the second.

"Ja, you see, I was wondering how to get to the closest one of those 'McDonald's' restaurants from here... For future reference, you see." It wasn't completely true, since Germany wasn't at all fond of the fast food chain, but it was the only way he could think of to test the man. America would know this, he practically lived for McDonald's. Even though they were in the United Kingdom at the moment, Germany didn't doubt that America knew how to get a hamburger _anywhere_ in the world.

"M-McDonald's? The closest one, from here? I... I'm not sure exactly... I think I might have passed one on the way from the hotel, but I wasn't really paying attention, eh?"

_All right, that is it. Something is definitely wrong._

Germany crossed over to where America was standing, and put his palm on the younger nation's forehead, checking for a fever.

"Are you sick, America? You... don't seem yourself."

"What? Oh, I'm fine, Germany, don't worry about me... I've just been a little distracted today, you know?"

It was more than that, Germany was certain. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something quite un-America like about the person standing in front of him. Maybe it was the hair, or the eyes? He could have sworn the American's eyes were blue.

But, if he wasn't America... Then... who was he?

"Uh, is there anything else you need, Germany?" 'America' asked quietly.

"Nein, that is all... _America_."

"Oh! Good! I, I'll just be going now, eh... Yeah, I have to go... um... change, for the meeting! Yeah, gotta go get my meeting clothes... See you later Germany gotta run bye!" The last part came out in one breath, before he turned tail and raced out of the meeting room.

_Hmm. That was certainly an odd conversation. _

Germany strolled over to the huge world map on the wall, and began to look over the various country names, in hope that he would see something that would jog his memory. He was fairly certain that the young man with the polar bear was not America, so that meant he had to be another nation, right?

He would have to know America well enough to emulate him, and had probably met Germany before, though Germany couldn't distinctly remember such a meeting. The nation in question would also need a key to the meeting room, which was the biggest problem of all. Barely anyone had a key to this room. The only nations with access were America, England, and Germany himself. He supposed that someone _could_ have stolen a key, but why? Why had someone needed to be in here so early in the morning?

He turned back to the map, this time looking at the western hemisphere for clues. There was America, of course. Below his land was Mexico, and then the central American countries. Even farther down was South America, with Brazil, Chile, Argentina, and the rest. He scratched his head in confusion. There was something, or rather, someone, he was forgetting, but for the life of him he didn't know who it was.

_Let's see. Polar bear, glasses, blond hair. Quiet and polite. Close to America, either culturally or geographically, maybe both..._ It was all vaguely familiar, but still a name for the America look-alike eluded him.

"~Ve! Come on, fratello! Hurry up!" The sound of his Italian ally's voice broke his concentration, effectively derailing his train of thought.

"Oh, come off it, Veneziano! I'm tired, you idiot, and I'll walk whatever speed I want to, thank you very much!"

Ah, so Romano was here as well.

Italy bounded into the room, followed by a rather grumpy looking Romano. It was interesting how very different the two were when it came to their personalities, despite the fact that, physically, they looked very similar.

Italy's face lit up even more (if that was possible) upon seeing Germany.

"~Ve! Doitsu, Doitsu! Ti amo!" Feliciano called out, using his nickname for his friend. He raced over, and threw his arms around Germany in an enthusiastic hug.

"Hello, Italy."

Italy began chattering a mile a minute about something or other, and Germany suddenly found himself holding a plastic Tupperware container filled with the Italian's favorite food. Italy was saying something about America, and magic, but it wasn't making any sense to Germany.

"...and I went right home and made pasta, but then I gave that to Romano, because he was in a bad mood and pasta makes people happy! So I made more this morning, and it's still warm, too! Do you like it?"

"Um... Ja, thank you, Italy."

"~Ve! I'm so happy, Doitsu!"

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Germany. "Italy, did you pass America in the hall on your way here?"

"America? ~Ve, I don'a think so..." He turned to his brother. "Fratello, did you see America on our way here?"

"No, of course not, Veneziano! Why on earth would you ask me something like that?"

"~Ve... Are you sure you didn't see him?"

"Veneziano, I think I would remember seeing the burger-obsessed American! Besides, you were with me, you know as well as I do that we didn't see America!"

Italy frowned. "~Ve... Sorry, Doitsu, we didn't see him... Are you looking for him?"

"Nein, I was just wondering, that is all..."

_ That's strange. There's no way America's double could have left when he did and not have run into them... And it seems highly unlikely that both of the Italian brothers wouldn't have noticed him..._

Italy ran over to the nearest chair, and sat down. "Come on, Doitsu, come sit!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Italy, those are not our chairs. See the place cards? Those chairs are for..." He picked the cards up off the table. "...Bulgaria and Switzerland."

"~Ve... Does that mean I have a card with _my_ name on it somewhere?"

"Ja, it does."

Italy clapped his hands in excitement, then eagerly scampered off to search for his place card.

Germany began to walk back to his chair, but (literally) ran into Romano on the way.

"Hey, potato lover! Watch where you're going!" Romano glared up at him, fists clenched in annoyance.

"My apologies, Romano. It was an accident."

Romano scoffed. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Germany frowned at the fuming Italian. He still wasn't quite sure why Romano hated him so much, though he suspected it probably had something to do with his friendship with Veneziano.

"I assure you, it was not intentional." He bit back the urge to add that he wouldn't ever _voluntarily _choose to be in any sort of close proximity with the Southern Italian man.

"Whatever, just... just stay out of my way, okay?" The words had bite to them, and were backed with a fierce glare. He stalked off, muttering Italian curses to himself.

_I still don't know how those two can be related._

* * *

"~Ve! Doitsu! Where are you sitting?" Italy had finally found his place card, and was waving it high, in an attempt to get Germany's attention. He hoped Germany was sitting near him.

"Over there, Italy," Germany said, pointing to where his chair was.

Italy gasped, appalled. "~Ve... But that's so far away... I was hoping we could sit near each other, like we usually do!"

"Why in the world would you want to sit near the potato loving idiot?" Romano yelled, as he stalked over to where his chair was, a few seats down from Italy.

"~Ve... What's wrong with wanting to sit near my friends? I like sitting with Germany and Japan..." _Besides, it's easier to convince Doitsu to let us take an early break, if I'm sitting next to him, instead of across the room!_

He sidled up to Romano, putting his arm around his brother's shoulder. "...Do you think it would be all right if I moved a couple of the place cards around?"

"Don't be stupid, Veneziano. You can't just go around switching all the-" He froze mid-sentence as he read the place cards on either side of his chair. "Okay, change of plan, we're moving the cards."

"But why, fratello?"

"Because, I am not sitting in between France and Spain!"

"~Ve... Okay! Just leave it to me, fratello. I'll put you next to Belgium, she's pretty..."

Romano blushed. "I... That's acceptable... Better than Spain or France, I guess..."

Italy picked up Romano's place card, and placed it next to the one belonging to Belgium. That meant he had to move Netherland's place card so it was where Romano's had been.

_Oh, that's not good, Mr. Netherlands doesn't really like Big Brother Spain all that much..._

He took Spain's place card and switched it with Hungary's, before remembering that if Hungary was so close to France, she'd probably end up hitting him with her frying pan.

_Why does this have to be so hard? I wish that everyone could just get along..._

France's place card in hand, he walked down the row, and decided to switch him with Austria, so Austria could be near Miss Hungary. It was then that he realized that that put France directly next to... England.

_Oh, no, that's even worse!_

Italy really didn't want a repeat of the last meeting. He still got a little queasy thinking about it. Quickly, he took England's card and switched it with someone else's. He didn't really care who it was, as long as England and France were as far apart as possible.

Satisfied that he'd solved his brother's problem, while avoiding any unnecessary fighting, he then moved his own place card down so he was in between Germany and Japan.

He set his bag down on the floor, then sat down in his chair to wait for everyone to arrive.

_~Ve... What do I do now? I don't usually come so early, I just wanted to make sure I gave Doitsu his pasta before everyone else got here..._ _Maybe I could draw... Yeah, I'll draw fratello a picture!_

Bending down from his seat, he reached into his bag to find his art supplies.

"~Ve, there's my phone, and my soccer ball... What is my favorite cooking spoon doing in here? Hey, here's that folder that Doitsu was looking for earlier, the one with his notes for the meeting... Eh, I'll tell him about it later... Oh, there's my boots! And here's my lunch, it's going to taste so good... I wonder if it's time for lunch yet. It's been forever since breakfast..." He placed each item on the table as he pulled it out, and soon had a nicely sized heap of... well, almost anything you could imagine, from cookware to sports equipment. At last, he found his sketch book and pencils.

"~Ve, here it is! Now I can draw." He eagerly began working on a picture, the outside world quickly forgotten.

* * *

**Hooray for forshadowing! There's quite a bit in this chapter, if you didn't pick up on that. The dominoes are being put in position, and who knows what will happen when someone knocks the first one down?**

**Also, as a note, Canada _did_ pass Italy and Romano in the hall, they just didn't see him... And, Canada, you needed America's McDonald's app! Then you might have actually fooled Germany...**

**Yeah, Italy's backpack defies logic, just like everything else about him. It holds anything and everything, and it always has the thing you want the most at the very bottom...**

**Okay, now I need your help! I haven't quite decided who's card got switched with England's! Any ideas? Any at all? Tell me!**

**Read and review! I think it'd be cool to get three reviews before the next chapter! I've got Chapter Four almost done, so it's all up to you!**

**~Arlechinna Rosa**


	4. One Short Day

**Wow! I'm updating already? Inconceivable! (Kudos to you if you know what that's from.) It's Chapter Four, everybody!**

**I just realized yesterday that I've been writing the chapter's song and artist at the end of the chapter. That kind of defeats the purpose, huh? I feel really silly about that, so I'm going to go back and change that in Chapter Two and Chapter Three. Meanwhile, today's song is One Short Day, from the Wicked soundtrack. Yes, I like the musical Wicked. As you'll probably figure out before the story's over, I have a wide range in music tastes. Classical, rock, broadway, opera, I'll listen to anything, really.**

**This song is in honor of Sealand, who has one short day to be a real country at the meeting. ...****Hmm, would that make England the Wizard of Oz? Since he's all into the magic and stuff, and London _is_ his city, after all... Or maybe it should be America, since today he's _'sailing in to save everyone's posteriors_'... That actually makes a little more sense, considering the plot of this story... **

**Yeah, I think these things through _way_ too much.**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"Ah, mon ami, it is quite nice being friends again, non?"

England hated to admit it, but he agreed. It was actually rather refreshing not fighting with the frog every minute.

"Yeah, I guess it is..." He conceded, as the pair walked through downtown London toward the Hotel Carson.

"Oui, and it is actually helping, I think."

"Helping? What do you mean?"

"Well, my country's recovery, of course. I've been feeling much better this morning. The stocks are climbing, the sun is shining... _C'est magnifique_."

"That's good, frog, but I'm not sure how much I had to do with any of it. It's only natural that you would recover quickly, you're a nation, after all."

"Oh, mon ami, do not shoot yourself down so. You are helping me, more than I can say. Why do you feel the need to claim that you aren't?"

"Because, frog, this whole bloody mess is my fault to begin with! I shouldn't get any thanks for helping fix something, if I was the one who caused it!"

France put his hand on his friend's shoulder, turning to look him in the eye. "Oh, Angleterre, what happened was not solely your fault. Stop beating yourself up over the past. What's done is done, there is no need to dwell on it, oui?"

England smiled. "That's actually pretty smart advice, France... I didn't know you were capable of being philosophical..." The slight back-handed insult was more out of habit than anything. There was no spite, no sarcasm tainting his words.

France laughed. "Oui, Angleterre, I have my moments..."

"So you do."

The two walked in silence for a while, until they finally reached the Hotel Carson.

"Thank you, Angleterre. I always enjoy a good walk through the city in the morning."

England sighed. "Actually, I would have preferred driving, but... you know... it's the strangest thing. I couldn't find my keys this morning." He smiled sheepishly. "I looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found... Guess it's one of the repercussions of getting old..."

"Hmm... It seems odd that you would lose something like that, especially considering the size of that key ring... It looked like it must weigh a ton, with all the keys you had on it."

"It does... I can't imagine where I could have put it... I thought for sure I left it on the kitchen counter!"

France chuckled. "Are you sure you did not accidentally put it in with a batch of your scones, mon ami? It would certainly explain the texture." Again, there was no real bite to the words, just habitual teasing. It was impossible for the two to stop teasing each other _completely_.

"Oh, shut it, you git," England said, but the smile on his face didn't disappear. He pushed open the door for his friend. "Here you go, frog. Ladies first?"

"Au contraire, mon ami, age before beauty, non?"

"Hey, I'm not _that_ old!"

"Oh? I seem to recall, just a few minutes ago, someone who was going on about getting older, and losing his keys, and forgetting things..."

England sighed in defeat. "I suppose you have me there, frog. I _was_ asking for it, wasn't I?" He walked through the door into the hotel lobby, where he was instantly met by several members of the hotel staff, all eager to wait on the personification of their country.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. England?"

"Would you like an escort to the conference room, Mr. England?"

"The morning newspaper, Mr. England?"

England took it all in stride. One of the perks of being a nation was that you instantly had VIP status where ever you went, especially in your home country.

Several female staff members were conversing with France, who was rather shamelessly flirting with them. England groaned inwardly. France would never grow up.

"Come on, frog, we've got to go. There's a bloody meeting starting soon, remember?"

France looked mildly disappointed, but followed after England anyway.

"There is still plenty of time before the meeting, Angleterre, why did you have to interrupt like that?"

"Because, if I left you to yourself, you'd be there all day."

"...You make a valid point."

The two boarded the elevator and rode up to the fifth floor in comfortable silence.

"I do hope Germany is here. Otherwise we'll be stuck outside, because I don't have my keys..."

"He will be here, mon ami. He's as punctual as one of his cuckoo clocks, and twice as noisy when telling people they're late."

The two made their way to the (thankfully, unlocked) door, and walked inside. Besides Germany, the Italy brothers were present, as well as Japan, Russia and Ukraine, and several others. Thankfully, Belarus was nowhere in sight.

England greeted Germany, who seemed relieved beyond words to learn that England and France were back on speaking terms. Then, England started to head to the conference table, but France caught him by the arm before he could get far.

"Mon ami, look who has just arrived!"

Austria and Hungary walked in, arm in arm. Hungary was wearing a very becoming, very feminine outfit; a light blue, fitted sundress that was cut above the knee, and swished elegantly when she walked. Small blue and white flowers adorned her hair. She held her frying pan in her left hand, while her right arm was curled tightly around Austria's left.

France was blatantly staring at the Hungarian girl, obviously not used to seeing her dressed quite so attractively. Hungary noticed his attention, and responded by smiling coyly and moving even closer to Austria.

"It's not fair, Angleterre. Why does she insist on spending time with him? She should be fawning over me and my gorgeousness, not that stuffy, cheapskate aristocrat!"

"I didn't know you were even interested in Hungary..." England said. "Sure, she's pretty, but she's got a mean swing with that frying pan, remember."

France winced, likely remembering the many times he'd been on the receiving end of said frying pan. "Oui, that she does, mon ami. I do not know what came over me..."

"Don't worry about it, frog. She does look nice today, I'll give you that."

"Indeed, Angleterre. I find it increasingly difficult to reconcile her beautiful, feminine exterior with her fierce, tomboyish personality. It makes no sense that one so tough on the inside should look so graceful and delicate on the outside..."

England had to agree. Hungary was sweet when she wanted to be, but incredibly scary when mad.

"Come on, France, let's go find out where we're sitting..."

"NEVER FEAR, YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD HERO IS HERE!"

The bane of England's existence had arrived, holding a McDonald's bag in one hand, and a soda in the other. Everyone looked toward the door, with varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. America stood grinning at them, blue eyes sparkling with something England couldn't identify. It was more than his typical cheery enthusiasm, that was for certain. He bounded across the room, evidently in top form this morning. He quickly located his chair, which was at the far end of the table, and set his food and drink on the table.

"Like, dudes, the hero is here, so we can totally get started!"

England rolled his eyes. "America, you're not the only nation in the world that matters. We're still missing quite a few people."

"Really? Dude, how dare they be so horribly late to the most important meeting of the century?"

England considered pointing out that the other nations weren't technically late yet. He thought about telling him that that the meeting didn't come even close to qualifying as the most important of the century. He pondered reminding the arrogant young superpower that America himself had only just arrived, so he couldn't rightly declare everyone that came after him 'horribly late'.

In the end, he decided against it. There was no point in trying to reason with America. He wouldn't listen, anyway, so why bother?

England surveyed the room, observing all the various nations interacting with each other. Most were standing and mingling, but a few were seated at their places at the table. Germany was doing paperwork, but kept occasionally looking up from his work. England noticed that he kept throwing baffled looks at America, though England couldn't imagine why. Italy was hunched over a piece of paper, scribbling furiously, and Russia was chatting with Ukraine. America was now eating his meal at a pace that would put a starving bear to shame.

France was still staring at Hungary, despite his earlier decision that flirting with her would only be asking for trouble. Austria had his arm around Hungary protectively, though England didn't doubt that in the case of a threat, it would probably be Hungary who was more cut out for the protecting.

Eventually, England struck up a conversation with Japan, and they talked until it was almost time for the meeting to start.

It was then that the other bane of England's existence arrived, accompanied by five Nordic nations.

"N'w, Seal'nd, m'ke sure t' b'have y'rself."

"Okay, Papa Sweden!"

_SEALAND? What is he doing here?_

He stalked over to where Germany was, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Germany!" he yelled into his associate's ear.

Germany flinched slightly at the disturbance, then turned to face England. "Yes, England, what's wrong?"

"You know bloody well what's wrong, Germany!"

"Actually, I'm afraid that I don't."

"Arrgh! It's_ Sealand_, you wanker! _Sealand_!" Even saying the little brat's name made him mad. "What in the world is Sealand doing here, at a World Conference? He's not even a bloody country, for crying out loud!"

"Finland asked me if he could come along, just this once. I didn't see any real reason why he shouldn't."

"You need a reason? I can give you _plenty_! That kid is nothing but trouble, Germany. He's too volatile for his own good. He's... he's the annoying little island on the face of my life! He'll probably end up declaring war on someone, and then he'll end up hurting someone, or getting hurt, himself..." His voice faded as he saw the look in Germany's eyes. It spoke volumes.

"England, are you even listening to what you're saying?"

"...Of course I am. What's wrong?"

"Nothing... just..." Germany looked away. "...Try repeating what you just said, but put yourself in Sealand's place."

England opened his mouth to respond, but froze when the full meaning of Germany's words sank in. What he'd said about Sealand very well could have applied to him, last week. He'd all but declared war on France, and _had_ ended up hurting him in the process.

"...Oh."

"Give him a chance, England. He may not be a full-fledged country, but he's well on his way, if he's as much like you as you just described him to be..."

* * *

Sealand was thrilled. The meeting room was huge and glorious, and so fancy! Just like the whole city of London. He would have to convince Fin to let them stay for a while, and walk around the city after the meeting. Now _that_ would be fun. The meeting came first, though. It was his first meeting as an official country, and he was going to make the most of it.

He fought the urge to run around, shouting his excitement to the world. Of course, that probably wouldn't give a very good first impression of the world's newest nation... so he resisted. He would be calm, confident, and mature.

"I'll be the most responsible nation here!" He said to no one in particular.

"Woof!" His backpack replied.

Sealand smiled, patting the backpack. Of course, it wasn't the backpack that had made the sound, it was the little white dog hiding inside the backpack. Finland and Sweden had been against letting him bring Hanatamago, but she was such a good dog, Sealand was sure she wouldn't make any trouble.

"Oh, Hana, isn't this exciting? My first real meeting as a country! I wonder if I'll get a chance to talk... This is going to be so much fun!"

"Hello, Sealand." Sealand looked up to see Austria and Hungary.

"Hi, Mister Austria, Miss Hungary!" The thrill of actually being acknowledged was compounded by the fact that they hadn't been the only ones to talk to him that morning. He'd been adressed by Russia, Ukraine, Japan, Belgium, and Liechtenstein. Switzerland didn't seem to happy about Sealand talking to his sister, though.

Sealand ran to tell Finland the good news. Finland was proud of him, and went right to inform Sweden.

Sealand smiled. Today was the best day of his entire life!

* * *

America drummed his fingers on the table top impatiently, annoyed that the one day he was actually on time, the one time he actually had something really important planned, everyone else had to take their good old time. People were coming, slowly, but Iggy was being stubborn, as always, and said they had to wait till everyone was there. Funny how he never insisted on everyone waiting when it was _America_ who was running late...

He took a bite out of his breakfast sandwich (not nearly as good as a hamburger, but still absolutely amazing) and sighed in boredom. Time was moving so sloooooowly today... He glanced down at the far end of the table, where Germany sat, hoping that the German would just go ahead and start the meeting anyway.

_No, no, America, that won't work. We need everyone here, remember?_

He slumped down in his chair, staring up at the flat, white ceiling. Only one thing kept him from going completely bonkers, and that was the thought that in just a little while, his plan would finally take effect. He just had to stay calm, it would all be over soon.

_Not much longer, not much longer..._

* * *

**And so ends another chapter. It's coming together, slowly but surely, I think.**

**I can't help but think that, even on good terms, England and France would still tease each other. They wouldn't really be England and France if they didn't, at least a little.**

**The "friendly neighborhood hero" line originated with Spider-Man, I'm pretty sure. "...Just another service from your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man!" I think that America, with his hero obsession, would be a Marvel Comics fan.**

**Am I the only one that thinks Sealand is a lot like England in some ways? It's like England is the island nation off of Europe, and Sealand is the even smaller island nation off of England. ...Just a thought.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next one may take a little longer before I'm done with it, but I'm working on it, so stay tuned!**

**Read and review, everybody!**


	5. High School

**Hi everyone! First, thank you all again for the nice reviews! I love you all! (In a totally platonic way, of course). So, I have decided to post a new chapter! **

**After this, updates might get a little slower, since I'm sending my computer to be looked at and repaired. I'm using the family computer until I get mine back. So, don't think I've fallen off the face of the earth or anything, I just won't be able to update as much. **

**I also just started English 101 at community college, (yay) so I'll be pretty busy with that as well. I will still do my best to keep working on this, though. I have the story mapped out now, all I have to do is get it written down and posted.**

**This chapter is entitled "High School" after the song by Superchick. Listen to it, it fits Hetalia, and this chapter, very well!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

It was 8:56. No one noticed when Canada silently entered the meeting room, now dressed in his normal, everyday clothes. He still clutched Kumajirou, and, for the first time that morning, he allowed himself to relax slightly. He even managed a smile.

"It won't be much longer now, Mr. Kumakana..."

* * *

Nine on the dot. That was what the clock on the wall said. It was finally time to get started. Excellent.

America sat up straight in his chair. It looked like everyone was here. He could feel the excitement rising up again, but he squashed it down before it could make its way onto his face.

_Okay, this is it. Germany will get everything started, and then it's all up to me..._

Germany stood to his feet, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention. "All right, everyone, listen up!"

Most everyone turned to listen, except for those that either didn't hear him, or simply didn't care.

"It is nine o'clock," Germany declared, "and it is time to begin today's session of the World Conference. First, I would like to thank England once again for hosting this year's conference..." There was scattered applause, along with a few glares from those who were still ticked off at England. Even though France and England seemed to have gotten back on good terms, some still felt that England should have been punished for his conduct.

"Second, I know this may not do any good, but I'm going to ask that all of you please try to be on your best behavior today. Wait your turn quietly! Listen politely! Be ready when it is your turn to speak, and articulate your thoughts clearly! Be willing to consider others' ideas, and, _please_..." The nations stared at him, probably not used to hearing the word 'please' from his mouth. "Please," he repeated softly, "_no _fighting."

_Not to worry, Germany... Today there won't be any fighting... Just leave it all to me._

Germany continued. "I mean it, all of you. We should be setting a good example for those who are younger than us..." He glanced over at Sealand, who was sitting and listening politely, the picture of docility. "...instead of letting them show us up. I'm aware that some of you find it hard to put past grudges behind you, but, if you can't forgive and forget, then you are just proving your immaturity. You've lived longer than all the humans, and yet, from watching they way some of you interact with each other, it's as if you just got out of high school."

Some of the nations (no names will be given, because the hero doesn't work like that) hung their heads in embarrassment. They knew Germany was right.

"...You are all nations, for crying out loud! Surely you've learned a little about diplomacy in the past few centuries... Or has all that time been wasted on petty feuds and silly arguments?"

It was a rhetorical question. No answer was needed, or expected. Everyone knew what Germany was insinuating, and no one could truthfully deny it.

"I'm not trying to point fingers, I've been just as guilty of this in the past as you have. Still, I'm asking you to at least _try_ to be civil to each other today. I know you are all capable of that much. By choosing not to, you are selling yourselves short. So, please..." Again with that word, _please_. It worked wonders, America realized. Germany had almost everyone's attention now. "...let's try for something more today. If you try to learn from your mistakes, instead of just repeating them..." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Who knows, we might actually accomplish something important today..."

* * *

Belarus stood off by herself, watching everyone. Well, not everyone, just one in particular. She wasn't paying attention to the German man, she could care less about what he was saying... She only watched Russia...

_Oh, Big Brother, why do you stand so far away? I miss you so. What happened? Why don't you love me anymore? I will find a way to make you love me..._

Russia was standing next to Ukraine, which made Belarus furious. Why did Russia like Ukraine and shun _her_? Just because Ukraine was pretty... But Belarus was pretty too, wasn't she? Russia should love her, he should be the one to chase her, not the other way around.

"...so, if everyone would make your way to your seat, we will begin. There are place cards marking your assigned seats." The German man's voice cut through her thoughts. She turned, annoyed. How dare he talk of such trivial things as meetings when she was thinking of her wonderful big brother... Wait, did he say they were supposed to sit down? Perhaps she was sitting next to Russia! Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being so close to him.

She walked over to the table, and frowned when she realized how many chairs there were. How was she supposed to find her chair if there were so many? She caught a glimpse of Lithuania, who waved happily when he saw her. She glared in response, before realizing that the idiot Toris might actually be useful in this situation.

Belarus stalked over to him, and whispered harshly into his ear, "Lithuania! You will find my chair for me, or I will stab you with my knife!"

Lithuania smiled broadly. "Of course, Miss Belarus!"

Belarus hated that her threats never scared him. She wanted him to be terrified of her. He didn't show any signs of fear, he never had... and she still couldn't figure out why.

* * *

Lithuania walked happily down the row of chairs, searching for Natalya's name. He was thrilled that Natalya had chosen him for this assignment. Perhaps this meant she was warming up to him! Perhaps, at long last, she returned his feelings...

"Hey, Liet!" Poland's voice startled him. He turned to face his best friend.

"Hi, Pol..."

"Like, what are you doing? You, like, totally passed your chair! You're totally sitting next to me, isn't that great?"

"Alright, Pol, but first I have to find Natalya's chair..."

"Liet! Like, get it through your head! She, like, hates your guts!"

Lithuania frowned. "What makes you say that? She actually asked me to find her chair for her."

Poland scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You mean she ordered you to, then, like, threatened you with her knife if you failed? Yeah, I can totally see the sparks flying, Liet."

"Pol, I know it sounds crazy, but I really, really like her! She's so beautiful when she's mad, I'm not scared at all!"

Poland put his hand on Lithuania's shoulder. "Liet..."

Lithuania continued, ignoring Poland. "Her knife, it doesn't frighten me. And when she breaks my fingers, I feel the pain, but it's exhilarating! I just feel like tilting my head back, and letting out a long-"

"YEEEEOOWWWWCH!"

That scream. It was unearthly. It was horrifying. It was unlike anything Lithuania had ever heard before. It was... It was...

_...Russia?_

* * *

_What in the world?_

Germany spun around to the source of the scream, both startled and confused. That scream... It was a voice Germany knew well, but he had never heard it in quite so much pain.

Russia's face was contorted with pain, and he was holding his backside. There were small tears leaking out from his tightly shut eyes. Germany hadn't ever seen him like this before. His initial shock was replaced by curiosity, and he walked over to figure out what had happened.

Ukraine was trying desperately to comfort Russia, though she looked like she was about to cry as well. Belarus charged over to her siblings, demanding to know what was wrong.

Russia had stopped crying, and his pained expression quickly reverted back to his normal, happy, childish one. Somehow, this scared Germany even more than the tears had.

Russia looked down at the chair he'd just attempted to sit in. He smiled.

"...Oh, what a lovely gift. Thumbtacks, placed on my chair. It was so... _thoughtful_ of someone to leave them here. I ought to find out who has done this and give them a nice present as well, da?"

Germany could have sworn he heard someone say something like "maple!" but it was very quiet, and there was too much going on to know for sure. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, though...

"Brother, who did this to you? I will kill them! I swear I will!" Belarus was frantic.

Ukraine, sweet, innocent Ukraine, now had a glare on her face that rivaled anything Germany had ever seen from either of her siblings. This was very bad.

"What's going on?" America asked, rushing over. "What happened? Is the commie hurt?"

Several of the other nations surrounded Russia as well, all wondering the same thing.

"Everyone, stand back," Germany said. "Give him some space." He turned to Russia. "Are you all right, Russia?"

"Da, I will be fine."

"But the person who did this won't!" Belarus cried, anger flashing in her eyes. She pulled out an extremely sharp knife that really should never have made it past security.

"_M-maple leaf!_"

This time Germany was sure he hadn't imagined it. The voice, he knew that voice...

_Wait a minute. _

Suddenly, it all clicked into place. The America look-alike. That _was_ his voice, wasn't it? It made perfect sense, that had been why America's twin had been here so early! He had been the one who had done this. Germany felt very proud of himself for figuring it out so easily. He knew who the culprit was, this was fantastic!

Now, if only he could remember his name.

...Oh.

This could be a problem.

* * *

This... could be a problem.

Yes, this was definitely a problem. More than a problem. This was the worst thing that could possibly have happened.

Canada was having a mild (okay, maybe more than mild) panic attack, and was trying, and failing, to keep from hyperventilating. Of all the people who could have sat there, why _Russia_? Did the universe hate him today?

Canada still wasn't sure how it had happened. He was sure he'd put the tacks on the right chair. He'd double-checked everything!

Somehow, it had all gone wrong, and Canada knew that he was going to suffer, eventually. It wasn't just Russia that looked mad, Belarus had her knife out, and looked ready to use it. Even Ukraine looked furious, and that was the worst part of all. He wanted desperately to say he didn't mean it, that it had all been an accident, but that would mean giving himself up.

He couldn't do that. All he could do was pray that he wouldn't be found out.

* * *

The noise level in the room was rising, and accusations were flying.

"How did this happen? Who did this?"

"I bet it was Sealand!" England cried. "No one but him would think of such a childish prank!"

"Hey! Don't talk about my little Sealand like that!" Finland was furious.

"Well, it's true! And who said he was _your_ Sealand? He's my bloody fort, not yours, and I will talk about him however I wish!"

Finland looked ready to go 'mother bear' on England, but Sweden was holding him back.

"Maybe it was America! He hates Russia, he's always calling him a Communist!" It was Cuba that put this idea out.

"Nuh-uh! I didn't do this! That would be a violation of my hero code! I'm not supposed to hurt anyone, not even evil Commies!"

"Who are you calling an evil Commie?" Cuba shot back.

"Russia, of course! But, I suppose you and Castro fall into that category too..."

"That's it, you're going down, America!"

America quickly realized his mistake. "Whoops... Is it too late to say I'm sorry?"

Meanwhile, the three Baltic nations were vehemently denying having had anything to with the prank. Belarus didn't seem to believe them.

"YOU LIE!"

"No, Bela, it's the truth! We would never do anything to hurt Russia! He was... very kind to us!" It was a blatant lie, but Lithuania was in a panic.

"Very _kind_ to you? Are you insinuating that Russia likes you more than me? Is that what you are saying? You think you are more accepted in Russia's eyes than I am?"

The Baltics knew that they were toast no matter how they answered. When Belarus was mad, there was no reasoning with her. Not that it was particularly easy to reason with her when she wasn't mad...

On the other side of the room, Finland was still yelling at England, while Sweden was trying to explain that Sealand had been with them the entire morning and had had no opportunities to sneak into the conference room before the meeting.

All in all, the World Conference was quickly turning into chaos. If anyone had been thinking clearly, they might have noticed a distinct feeling of déjà vu in the air. It was clear that all was not well, and unless something changed very soon, it wouldn't be long before the meeting ended the same way the last one had.

* * *

Italy winced at the sight of Russia in pain. The tall man was hiding it expertly behind an empty smile, but Italy could see the hurt and anger swimming in his violet eyes.

Italy hadn't been watching when the incident had happened, he'd been drawing. So, he went straight to the best source for information on what was wrong.

"~Ve... Doitsu, what happened to Mr. Russia?"

"Well, Italia, it seems _someone_ put thumbtacks on Russia's chair."

"~Ve! That must have hurt! Why do you think someone would want to do that to Mr. Russia?"

"I don't know," Germany said distractedly, as he glanced around the room. Like he was looking for someone. Did Germany know who did this?

"Do you have any idea who it was?"

Germany flinched, as if the question was a sore spot for him. Maybe it was.

"I'm not sure," Germany whispered. "...yet." He added that part as an afterthought.

Germany walked back to his chair, and began leafing through some papers. Italy watched him for a moment, then went over to Russia and his sisters. He could investigate for Germany! Germany would be so proud of him!

He attempted to decide who he should talk to first. Belarus was out from the start. She terrified Italy. Ukraine looked really upset, and she kept whispering things in her native tongue that sounded suspiciously like death threats. All in all, Russia seemed like the safest bet, for now.

"Mr. Russia?"

"Da, little Italy?"

"I... I'm really sorry you got hurt..."

"Do not worry. Thumbtacks are nothing for Russia. I am perfectly fine." The vengeful look in his eyes said otherwise, but Italy didn't dare challenge it.

"D-do you know who did it?"

Russia's expression darkened, but he kept his smile. "I will soon."

"You will?"

"Da, I will. Russia will find out who his new friend is. I must repay him for his nice present, da?"

"Uh... Yeah..." Italy began to feel a little nervous. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Russia's eyes lit up. "Oh, good. Russia likes company."

"But you have me, big brother..." Belarus whispered from behind him. "You don't need anyone else..."

Russia froze, obviously having forgotten that Belarus was there. "Sestra, please don't..."

Italy gulped. "I'm... going to go now... I just remembered... I have something really important to do that requires I be as far away from you as possible! Asta la Pasta!" Italy raced away, back to the safety of his chair.

Germany was still going through his papers, despite the fact that there weren't very many at all. He was looking more and more frustrated by the second.

"~Ve, Germany, weren't you going to start the meeting?"

Germany snapped to attention. "Oh, that's right, I almost forgot! Thank you, Italy." He set his papers on the table, and stood up. "All right, everyone, that's enough! I mean it, I want everyone quiet! We need to get started, so, please, sit down."

No one moved.

Germany rolled his eyes.

"...Feel free to check your chairs for thumbtacks, if you must," he conceded at last.

* * *

"_Mon cher_, what is the matter with you?" France was concerned at the sight of his friend in such a state. England had stopped arguing with Finland, and was now digging through his bag, pulling out papers and folders, and throwing them to the side.

"Must... find... seating arrangement..."

"_Pardon_?"

England looked up at France, determination glowing in his emerald eyes. "I don't think the tacks were meant for Russia."

"Why not, Angleterre? I am sure many people have reason to dislike Russia."

"I won't disagree with you on that point, but, I'm sure I put him on the other side of the room. The same with you, I could have sworn you were in between Portugal and South Italy..."

"That is certainly odd, but don't you think you are making a bit too much out of this?"

"Not at all, frog. If the thumbtack weren't meant for Russia, then we need to figure out who they were meant for, and why Russia got them instead." He sighed. "It's like bloody _Busby's Chair_ all over again, frog..."

"Oui, but this time Russia's dark side underestimated the power of _les punaises_..."

England turned back to his back, and withdrew a manila folder. He flipped it open. "Perfect. Now, let's see who was supposed to be in chair twenty-seven..." He scanned the page, and his face went pale. "W-what? That's not possible... I... I don't understand..."

"What is it, mon ami?"

"I... T-the thumbtacks- that chair- I-I don't believe it... some b-bloody wanker did this- to- H-how...? Wh-why...?"

"Angleterre, you're stuttering."

England looked up at him, eyes wide with horror. "Frog... that was supposed to be _my_ chair..."

"Yours, Angleterre?"

"I can't believe it... Someone tried to do this to me! Why on earth would anyone want to hurt me, I'm a very nice per..." his voice dropped off. "...Oh."

France raised an eyebrow. "...Oh?"

"It's about what happened last week. That has to be it. Someone was trying to get back at me for what I did to you..."

"Hm... I see... It seems I have a friend I didn't know about, then..."

"This isn't funny, frog."

"I never said it was funny, Angleterre... In fact, I am quite shocked that someone would go to such lengths to avenge me..."

"Yes, this person is obviously very loyal to you... But... there's still one thing I can't figure out."

"What is that, mon ami?"

"...Who?"

* * *

**Oh dear, America needs to step in soon... It looks like trouble on the horizon...  
**

**Choosing who was going to suffer the pain of "_les punaises_" (or, "the thumbtacks", in French) was incredibly difficult. Thank you all for your suggestions, they were quite helpful... At some point, somebody suggested Russia, and I thought, _hey, that's actually a pretty interesting idea..._ I hope it turned out okay...**

**It's rather funny, actually... Germany now knows the "Who" (no pun intended) and England knows the "Why". They might actually get somewhere if they were to put their heads together... Then again, England probably wouldn't be much help remembering Canada's name... He does have a copy of the seating arrangement, though, which happens to be what Germany was looking for. ****I'll give you three guesses as to why Germany can't find his copy, and the first two guesses don't count. I gave it a very brief, passing mention in a previous chapter, if you're curious...**

**I hope you liked the chapter! I will try to get the next one done as soon as possible...**

**Read and review, everybody!**


	6. L'Chaim, To Life

**I'm back! It feels like it's been forever since I updated, probably because it _has_ been forever since I updated... I'm so sorry for the wait, I've just been really busy with college and family obligations, and haven't had much chance to write... I think this chapter is fairly decent, though. It's longer than any other chapter so far, except for the first one. It actually was going to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it into two chapters, since it was getting so long.  
**

**This chapter's title is taken from "The Fiddler on The Roof," which is a totally awesome musical. The song itself is also great, but I picked it for the title more than anything else. To tell you the truth, it really has nothing to do with the plot of this chapter, but the name was too good to pass up. (It'll make more sense after you read it). You don't have to listen to it while you listen, since I'm pretty sure it would only confuse you, since the lyrics don't make much sense in the context of this story... **

**If you want some really good music to listen to while reading, I suggest "Divenire" by Ludovico Einaudi. (Especially the live recording at Royal Albert Hall in London, you can just feel the emotion in that performance...) I listened to it while writing this, and... wow. That song makes any story feel heart-wrenchingly dramatic. It's also a really good build-up for what happens in the middle of this chapter...  
**

**On that note, before we get started, I would like to formally apologize to John F. Kennedy. And Abraham Lincoln. And Martin Luther King Jr. And Patrick Henry. And William Shakespeare. And, really, anyone else America quotes in the course of this chapter. I love all their speeches, and hold them in the highest respect, that's why I quoted them... Unfortunately, America mangled their words just a little...  
**

**Anyway, on to the story! Enjoy paranoid England, petrified Canada, and politician America. Along with a few others as well...  
**

* * *

England walked over to his chair, and distractedly sat down. He still wasn't quite coming to grips with the revelation that he had been the intended target of the anonymous prankster. He couldn't look at any of the other nations without contemplating whether it might have been them who had done it.

_Maybe it was Spain, he's good friends with France, and he still hates me from my privateering days... Or maybe it was America, he's definitely childish enough to try something like that... I still haven't completely ruled out Sealand yet, though..._

England sighed. Suspicion was a miserable feeling. These people were his friends, how could he look at them and consider that they had wanted to hurt him? But it was clear that one of them had, and he knew the suspicion that plagued him wouldn't let him rest until he knew who it was.

_Somehow, I'll figure it out. I just have to think, that's all. Who could it be? Think, think, think..._

* * *

Canada looked around fearfully at the other nations, hands trembling violently as he searched for any sign that they suspected him. The only reason he didn't hightail it out of the conference room that minute was because he'd promised his boss he'd bring back a full report on the events of the meeting.

_I wonder if anyone's figured it out yet... Someone will, eventually... Oh, what if they do? I'll probably get banned from the meetings permanently! Not that anyone remembers who I am when I do show up..._

He glanced over at Russia, who was sitting at his chair, smiling broadly. Every single one of those cursed thumbtacks were sitting on the table in front of him, a little semicircle filled with unspoken threats. Canada gulped. It felt like the thermometer had dropped several degrees all of a sudden.

Attempting to banish the fear and guilt from his mind, he grabbed his drink off the table and downed the entire glass in one gulp. It did nothing to calm his nerves, only leaving a bad taste in his mouth, and a disconcerted feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Oh, I wish there was a way to go back and change it... To go back in time to warn myself... I wonder if I would have listened... Would I even _notice_ me if I tried to tell myself about Russia? I'm invisible to everyone else, I might not even see me... Oh, maple, this is so confusing..._

Canada grimaced. The unpleasant feeling in his stomach was getting steadily worse. He noticed that some of the nations were vehemently accusing each other of pranking Russia. Canada could feel the guilt stabbing at him. He didn't want someone else getting blamed for this... But the only way to ensure that was to take responsibility himself, and admit the truth.

_I can't do that... Russia will kill me... And Belarus and Ukraine will probably help him... Then once England finds out that the tacks were supposed to be for him, he'll kill me too... Oh, I'm doomed no matter what I do... I'll either die at the hands of a sadistic Russian, or else I'll have to live with this miserable feeling of guilt for the rest of my life..._

Canada felt like he was going to cry. He wasn't sure what to do. Part of him wanted to just get it over with, plead guilty, and hope for the best. The other part of him refused, saying that it was nothing short of suicide to put his fate in Russia's hands.

_Being a fugitive is a sad and lonely life..._

* * *

"Attention, everyone! Attention!" America was yelling at the top of his lungs, but no one was responding. They were too busy shouting across the table at one another. Somehow, the conversation had turned from the prank on Russia, and was now focusing on the fight last week. England was being verbally attacked from all sides, despite France's attempts to stop them.

America tried again. "Dudes, the hero has something to say!"

Still, no one heeded his instructions.

"HEY, EVERYONE, STOP TALKING AND LISTEN UP!" That one got a reaction. Everyone quieted down, and looked over to where he was standing. Unfortunately, most just looked annoyed that he was disturbing their arguments. Only Germany, who'd been trying to achieve the exact same thing for the past few minutes, looked remotely grateful, and even he didn't look too enthusiastic when he saw that it was America who had gotten everyone to be quiet.

Despite the "thumbtack incident" causing a minor interference with his plan, America was still fired up and ready to go. He could work with this. In fact, it would probably be even more heroic now, for him to swoop in and restore order just when all hope was lost. He took a deep breath, mentally running through the speech he'd prepared. He'd decided to change a few things around at the last minute.

"Dudes, I know this meeting didn't start how we all thought it would, and I know you're all pretty worked up about what happened to the com-" He quickly caught himself. "...to _Russia_, but we shouldn't let one person's immature prank throw this whole day off. We have a whole lot to accomplish today, and the more time we waste fighting, the less we are going to get done."

England stood up. "I agree, America, but what exactly is your point in all of this? As far as I can tell, we aren't accomplishing anything by listening to you _talk_, either..." There were a few scattered laughs across the room.

"Well, Iggy, if you'd just let me finish, you'd see that I have more than just empty words this time. I have an intelligent, deliberately thought-out plan to stop this pointless arguing that seems to constantly plague our meetings!"

"_You_ have an intelligent, deliberately thought-out plan? That's a first," England said. More laughter came from a few of the other nations.

"What exactly did you have in mind, America?" Germany asked. His expression clearly said he wasn't expecting much.

America sighed. Why didn't any of them think he was capable of coming up with something really great? He was _always_ throwing out genius ideas at the meetings...

"Well, I've been thinking-"

"Another first," England joked.

America frowned at him. "Arthur, I believe _I_ have the floor right now, so, if you don't mind?"

England looked shocked at America's mature, calm response, but didn't make a comeback.

"As I was saying, I've been thinking lately, and I believe I know why we are always fighting at these meetings." He gave a slight pause, just to make sure everyone was listening, then continued.

"The reason we fight is because we are so busy focusing on our differences, that we've lost sight of why we are here. We are here to help each other, to build each other up. We should be trying to fix problems, not create new ones."

"...I agree with America," Japan said softly. Switzerland started to say something, but Liechtenstein stopped him.

America gave her a warm smile.

"Friends, allies, countries, lend me your ears. I come to bury our past grudges, not to celebrate them. The evil that men and nations do lives after them, yet somehow the acts of good and times of peace are forgotten. Let it not be so with us."

America was grinning now. It was really working! "Fellow nations, I have a dream! A dream rooted deeply in the _American_ dream. I have a dream that someday, the nations of the world will not be judged by the quality of their cooking, but by the content of their character!" America grinned proudly, basking in the moment. Never before had he had everyone's full, willing, undivided attention like this. It all came down to this one speech, and America was going to make it count.

"Everybody, we've been coming at this all wrong. Instead of selfishly ignoring the needs of our people for the sake of our own personal grudges, we should be putting the people first. My friends, ask not what your people can do for you, but what you, the countries, can do for your people!"

Everyone was staring at America in what he assumed was vehement admiration.

"Let every nation know, whether they wish me well or ill, that I shall pay any price, bear any burden, (within reason, of course,) meet any hardship, and oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and success of liberty! To this much I pledge, and more! For I know not what course others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"

They were eating it up, all of them. They were hanging on his every word. He was their hero now, indisputably so.

"To you, both old allies and new, I pledge my undying service. United, there is little we cannot do. But divided, there is little we _can_ do, for none of us would dare meet a challenge at odds with ourselves, and be torn apart.

"To this world assembly of sovereign states, the world's last and _best_ hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, I renew my pledge of support. I ask that all of you would do the same. Let us begin anew, remembering, on both sides, that civility is _not_ a sign of weakness.

"To those nations who would make themselves America's adversary-" (_no names, the hero doesn't give names, remember?_) "-we offer not a pledge, but a request: that we might begin anew the quest for peace.

"In your hands, my fellow nations, more than in mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Nations of the world, ask not what America can do for you, but what we can do together for the benefit of mankind."

He paused, trying to gauge everyone's reaction. They seemed very receptive. Perfect.

America held up his soda. "Nations of the world, I would like to propose a toast."

Just as he'd instructed, the hotel employees had already begun handing out drinks before his speech, but there were still a few people who didn't have one yet. America waited until everyone had a glass, then began the toast.

"To unity! It must be preserved!"

_To unity... next to our liberties, most dear..._

America pushed aside that thought. Liberty was important, yes, but unity and peace were more important still. Calhoun had been wrong. Everyone knew that. The North had won, and the South had lost. And, as they say, those who win the war write the history books.

"To harmony! To common goals! To freedom!"

_Freedom that this formula is going to take away..._

...Oh, hush.

* * *

"Hush, Hanatamago... We'll be taking a break soon, in just a little while..." Sealand was trying to pay attention to the long-winded American man, but Hana was whining repeatedly for a treat.

America was still rambling. "...Approximately four days and seven hours ago, I was struck with a brilliant idea, conceived in genius, and based on the proposition that all men are created equal!"

_Hmm... that part sounded kind of familiar... You know, come to think of it-_

Before Sealand could finish that thought, he was distracted by the feeling of something distinctly small and furry brushing against his ankles. He looked down and saw Hanatamago scampering off toward the door. Sealand frantically hopped out of his chair, unnoticed by Sweden and Finland, who were, like everyone else, still watching America.

"Hanatamago, come back!" Sealand whispered urgently. The little white dog paid him no mind, instead choosing to go exploring. Sealand chased after her as quietly as possible, hoping no one would notice him. He didn't want to get kicked out of the meeting before it even began...

* * *

Hungary sighed in good-natured exasperation at America's very, very long speech. Was she the only one who had noticed that the American man had been talking for over five minutes, and still hadn't said much of anything? She glanced over at Austria, who was sitting two chairs down. He looked fairly bored as well, and was tapping his finger rhythmically on the rim of his wine glass, no doubt composing some new music in his head. Hungary was somewhat relieved that she wasn't the only one who wasn't entirely impressed by America's clichéd rhetoric.

Tired of waiting for America to finish, Hungary took a small sip of her Tokaji wine. She frowned at the aftertaste. It didn't taste quite like she remembered it. It wasn't an altogether _bad_ taste, though. In fact, if she wasn't so loyal to the traditional flavors of her country's wine, she might have dared to call it an improvement...

Suddenly, she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see what it was, and was surprised to see Sealand, standing over by the door. He noticed her curious gaze, and his frustrated expression quickly turned to one of guilt.

Hungary laughed softly, and waved at the young boy. He waved back at her, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.

_...I wonder what he's up to..._

* * *

"To life, for, without it, we would all be dead!"

Japan watched silently as America made the toast. Oddly enough, the American almost seemed to be taking the meeting seriously today. Japan didn't think that America's speech was completely original, and parts of it were certainly lacking in substance, but it seemed that America's heart was in the right place this time.

"Everyone... let us toast to peace. There is nothing we cannot achieve, if we work together! So, what do you say? To peace?"

There was a short silence, as everyone considered America's words. Finally, England stood to his feet.

"...To peace," he agreed solemnly.

France stood as well. "To peace."

"To peace." That was Germany. Japan echoed the same.

At once, everyone else stood to their feet, raising their glasses. Well, except for Italy, who had apparently misunderstood America's proposal, and was toasting with actual toast. Garlic toast, to be precise.

"To peace!" everyone said in unison, and then sipped from their respective glasses.

For a moment, Japan thought that his tea had an odd taste, something that he wasn't familiar with. It quickly disappeared, so he assumed he had simply imagined it. Either that, or the flavor was the result of some added European ingredient. Leave it to England to Westernize Japanese tea.

Greece was sitting to Japan's left, and he looked to be nearly asleep. Doing his best not to infringe on Greece's personal space, Japan gently nudged Greece on the shoulder.

"Greece, America has finished his speech, we are supposed to drink now..."

Greece looked up sleepily. "Oh, I see..." He slowly sipped from his cappuccino freddo.

Japan smiled at his friend. Hopefully, whatever America had planned was actually something effective, and not just another of his crazy, off-the-wall ideas. If America actually was able to achieve peace and intelligent discussion among the nations, then Japan would be astonished. Some of the countries were inherently opposed to working together.

Turkey and Greece would be particularly difficult, for, despite all of Japan's efforts to get them to be friends, the two still detested each other. Romano had trouble getting along with _anyone_, and Switzerland had been perpetually on edge today, especially since Germany had forcibly confiscated his firearms for the duration of the meeting.

* * *

America grinned proudly as he looked around the table at his (mostly) captive audience. He knew that even those who weren't wholly enthusiastic now, would be as soon as the effects of the formula set in. He didn't know how long it would be before it started working, but he hoped it wouldn't be too long...

_I wish I'd kept that book of Artie's... It probably mentioned that..._

Germany cleared his throat to get the group's attention. "All right, that's quite enough, everyone." He locked eyes with America, his expression unreadable. "...What now, America?"

America froze. "W-what do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Well, you seem to have the course of this meeting completely figured out, so why don't you start everything off for us?"

America couldn't tell if Germany was being sarcastic, or if he was genuinely encouraging America to lead the meeting. He hoped it was the latter, but he could hear an unspoken challenge in Germany's words.

"...I, well, uh..." America stammered helplessly. He hadn't really thought this far ahead. _...Darn it, why didn't I plan for this?_ "I... um, actually... yeah, about that..."

"...I see." Germany's words were tinged with annoyance, and maybe the slightest bit of disappointment, too.

"W-wait! I have something, I just... I need a few minutes. It's not quite ready yet..."

Germany rolled his eyes. "Very well then. _I_ shall start the meeting."

"No, dude, I can do that!" America desperately wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the people, even if he really didn't have any idea what he was doing. "Don't worry about a thing, Germany! I'll handle everything! Just sit back and let the hero take over!"

Germany hesitated, looking slightly torn. At last, he nodded, a gesture of his consent to let America take charge. He sat down, looking at America expectantly.

America gulped. What exactly was he supposed to say now? For some reason, his mind went totally blank. He tried to think about what Germany or England would say if they were running the meeting.

"So," America said, looking around the room, "I... hereby call this session of the World Conference to order?" That definitely sounded like something Germany would say, he was always so formal about everything. "...Um, should we, like, take roll, or something?"

"I am in charge of calling roll," England said, standing up. He then began to call each nation's name from his list, which was arranged alphabetically. "...Afghanistan?"

"Here."

"Argentina?"

_...Hey, wait a second._

"Here."

"Australia?"

"Here."

_Something isn't right..._

"Austria?"

_Did he just...?_

"Here."

"Belarus?"

_He did! He totally skipped me!_

"I am present."

"Um, excuse me, England?" America needed to set this straight before the meeting went any further.

"...What is it, America?"

"Well, you're doing a great job and all, but you kind of skipped the most important nation here."

"And who would that be?"

"Why, me of course!"

England rolled his eyes. "I haven't gotten to you yet..."

"But I'm _America_! You're already calling off _B_ names!"

"Alfred Jones, your full title is the_ United States of America_. I won't get to your entry until we reach to the letter _U_."

Realization dawned at last. "...Oh."

"May I continue, please?"

"...Go ahead."

"Thank you. ...Belgium?"

"Here!"

"Brazil?"

"Here..."

"Chile?"

"Here."

"China?"

_Oh, this is gonna take forever..._

* * *

Germany listened carefully as England read off the names, waiting for one that sparked recognition. Every name England said, Germany hurriedly wrote down, in an attempt to reconstruct his attendance list. He still couldn't come up with a name for America's twin, and it was driving him crazy. He'd tried everything, but it was to no avail. He hadn't even seen the mysterious violet-eyed nation since he'd abruptly left the room before the meeting.

Germany was almost tempted to believe he'd imagined the entire conversation. He _had_ been tired this morning. But, he was sure, there was a nation he was forgetting about. He had seen that violet-eyed blond man before. ...Maybe he was one of Prussia's friends?

"...Finland?" England read from the list.

"Here," Finland replied cheerfully.

"France?"

"Present, Angleterre."

"Germany?"

Germany looked up from his rapidly growing list of names. "Here..."

"Greece?"

There was a slight pause.

"...Greece?"

Japan, who had been trying to wake the snoring Greece, gave up and answered for him. "Greece is here..."

"Excellent. Hungary?"

The pretty Hungarian woman smiled. "Here."

"Iceland?"

"Here," Iceland said, in between bites of licorice.

"India?"

Germany looked at his list. He knew everyone on it so far. It was frustrating... The nation's name was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't remember it...

_Ach, why can't I think of his name? It's not like he's Rumplestiltskin or something!_

Germany began looking around the table, naming off each nation in his head. If America's twin was here, he should come to him eventually...

_There's Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania..._

"Italy, Romano?"

"Hmmph... Here."

_...Belarus, Ukraine..._

"...Italy, Veneziano?"

_...Moldova, Romania..._

"~Ve, I'm-a here!"

"Japan?"

Germany was finding it rather hard to concentrate with the roll being taken in the background.

_Um... U-Ukraine, Moldova..._

"Here," Japan answered.

_...Romania, Slovenia, Czech Republic..._

"Korea, North?"

_...Bulgaria and Turkey..._

"Here..."

_...India, China..._

"Korea, South?"

"Calling roll originated in Korea!"

_...Where was I? Turkey? I think it was Turkey... Let's see... There's Turkey, India, China..._

"Latvia?"

"H-here..."

_...China, Mongolia, Thailand, Hong Kong-_

"Liechtenstein?"

_...Hong Kong, Vietnam, Taiwan..._

"Here!"

"Lithuania?"

"Here..."

..._D-did I count Thailand already? I can't keep all these Asian countries straight... Thailand, Hong Kong, Vietnam-_

"Luxembourg?"

"Here."

"Mexico?"

_Vietnam, Taiwan, North Korea..._

"Here."

_...Taiwan, North Korea, South-_

"Moldova?"

_...Ignore them, Germany, you'll lose your place if you don't..._

"Here."

_...Wait, where was I?_

"Principality of Monaco?"

_No , it was somewhere in Asia, I think..._

"Here."

_Oh, yes, it was the Koreas, wasn't it? North Korea, then South Korea, and next to him is-"_

"Mongolia?"

_...Mongolia, Thailand, Hong Kong... Wait, didn't I do them already?_

"Here."

_Vietnam, Taiwan... _

"Netherlands?"

_Taiwan, then North Korea... I'm almost positive I did this before...  
_

"Here..."

"New Zealand?"

_...Oh, this isn't working... Um... Taiwan... North Korea and South Korea, and then... the Philippines...? I really, really need to get out of Asia..._

"...Here."

_Philippines, Indonesia... And sitting next to Indonesia is... Australia. Good, I'm finally past the Asians... Who's next? That one island near Australia..._

"Norway?"

_No, but it does start with an N... Didn't England just say it a second ago?_

"Here."

"Paraguay?"

_It's Australia and-_

"Here."

_Australia, and then _New Zealand_, yes, that's it..._

"Peru?"

"Here..."

_And after New Zealand is-_

"Philippines?"

_Philippines...? B-but I said the Philippines already... Didn't I? I mean, I know I counted all the Asians..._

"Here."

"Poland?"

"Like, I'm totally here!"

_All right then, Philippines, Indonesia, Australia, New- _

"Romania?"

"Here..."

_Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand... Then... Chile, so we're in South America now... And then-_

"Russia?"

"Mother Russia is also present..."

_ N-New Zealand, and... let's see... New Zealand, Chile... Argentina is next to him... Paraguay and Uruguay... Or is it Uruguay and Paraguay? Oh, South America is almost as bad as Asia..._

"Seychelles?"

..._Where was I? Chile? Argentina? Mein Gott, why is this so _hard_?_

"Here!"

Germany's head was starting to hurt, and he wasn't anywhere closer to remembering America's brother's name.

"Slovakia?"

_Slovakia...? I don't remember seeing him..._

Czech Republic spoke up. "My brother has a fever... I'm representing both of our countries today..."

England made a note on his attendance sheet. "Very well. Slovenia?"

"Here..."

_All right, think, Germany... There's Chile and Argentina... Uruguay/Paraguay... _(Germany had given up trying to tell which was which) _...Then Brazil, Peru, and Cuba, I think. Who is sitting next to them?_

_ "_Spain?"

"¡Presente!"

_Spain... Wait, Spain? No, no, that's all wrong! He isn't even located on the same side of the globe! It's Mexico that comes next, and he is right next to America..._

"Sweden?"

"...'m here."

_Next to America is-_

"Switzerland?"

_Um, no._

"Here."

"Taiwan?"

_That's not right either..._

"Here..."

_Focus, focus... Who's after Mexico and America?_

"Thailand?"

_Nein! I have already counted Thailand! I'm sure of it! I swear, I must have counted him at least three times while I was stuck in Asia!_

"Here."

"Turkey?"

_Nein, I have counted Turkey as well..._

"Here."

"Ukraine?"

"Here..."

"Very good. And I'm representing the whole of the United Kingdom today, since my lazy brothers couldn't take any time out of their day to show up..." England looked rather peeved. Germany could sympathize, he knew well what it was like having a lazy brother... _Several_ of them would be absolute torture.

"Let's see... The United States of America?" England asked, even though everyone in the entire room knew that America was present.

"Dudes, the hero is present and accounted for!"

"Unfortunately," England muttered under his breath. "Uruguay?"

"Here."

"Vietnam?"

"Here..."

"Well, I think that is everyone," England said, setting his attendance list on the table.

_What? Nein! That isn't everyone! You missed someone, I know it, and I would definitely scold you for forgetting him, if it weren't for the fact that I still cannot remember his name!_

America stood. He looked slightly calmer, maybe not quite as unsure as he had when Germany had first asked him to direct the meeting. For some reason, this didn't make Germany feel any better about the situation. In fact, Germany almost felt affronted that America was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about running a meeting.

Germany had never been entirely serious about letting America lead the meeting, all he had really wanted to do was prove the American's ridiculous rhetoric wrong, maybe get America to admit he wasn't as great and heroic as he thought he was. He had never actually expected America to _agree_. Germany couldn't help but feel just a little hurt at how quickly America had jumped at the chance to run the conference himself. Though he hated to admit it, Germany had gotten used to being the unofficial leader of the conferences. He liked running the meetings, he enjoyed being the voice of reason through the chaos, if only to prove that he really could be a capable leader.

Even so, Germany refused to let any disappointment show on his face. To protest America's leadership would seem childish and conceited now, since Germany had technically been the one to give the opportunity to him in the first place. Naturally, Germany would still be there to pick up the pieces for him, in the end. The intrepid, audacious American seemed determined on setting the ship's course today, so Germany would let him... for now.

_...When he ends up crashing the ship, I certainly hope the wreckage is still salvageable..._

* * *

**There's no turning back now... The nations have sampled the Hero's formula... It will take a little while for it to actually take effect, though. Also, different people will react differently, some reacting faster than others, some reacting more strongly... Any guesses on who will be the first to succumb completely?  
**

**We're almost halfway done, (yay!) since the story is going to be about thirteen chapters long, from what I can tell... One more chapter until Intermission, which is going to be awesome, or at least I think so... It will be like a connecting chapter, I suppose, bridging the story pieces together, but I'll get into more detail about all of that in Chapter Seven.**

** I know I said on my profile that I would post the two one-shots for animefairi right after I posted Chapter Six, but I technically cut Chapter Six in half, and I really want to get in another scene with Italy before I detail the results of his cooking lesson from America... I promise that I'll post them once we reach the halfway mark, though... Good things come to those who wait, so don't give up! I will get those posted ASAP, I promise!**_  
_

**Yes, England totally skipped Canada when he was calling the roll... I have my doubts as to whether Canada was ever on the list at all, actually. He's forgotten so much of the time, it's an easy mistake... I feel a little bad for Canada now... poor lonely fugitive...  
**

**In case you were wondering, not everyone is grouped by continent (hence the fact that Japan is in between Italy and Greece) but I did that for quite a few of the countries, because it made it somewhat easier to decide where to put everyone. If you think about it, Germany was really, really close to finding Canada, I mean, he made it to Mexico and America, Canada's just a quick trip north of there...  
**

**If you want a mental picture of the seating arrangement, think of it like this. Germany is at one end of the table, and America is at the other end. The Baltics are to Germany's right, then Bela, Ukraine, and most of the other Eastern European countries. The Asians, (minus Japan,) are next, then Australia and Zea, the South American countries, then Cuba and Mexico. America is at the head of the table, and Canada's on his right. Next to Canada are all the Nordics, as well as Sealand, (or, at least he was, until Hana got loose...) From there, it gets a little fuzzy, as I thoroughly succeeded in confusing myself when I had Italy switch all the cards, but Switzerland's next to Liechtenstien, Netherlands is now in between Hungary and Austria, Romano is next to Belgium, (but not France or Spain) England is as far away from Belarus as humanly possible (his seat was originally going to be Russia's, remember?) and he's also not sitting next to France or Sealand. Greece is next to Japan, who is sitting next to North Italy, who is to the left of Germany. Not sure if this helps anyone, but I thought I'd at least try to describe it...  
**

**Anyway, I'll probably be posting Chapter Seven pretty soon, since it's already partly done... It will also be fairly long, since there's a lot to cover...  
**

**Review and tell me how I did this time around. Was it good? Bad? Neutral as Switzerland during a war? I love hearing what everyone thinks, and, actually, sometimes I like criticism better than compliments. I mean, sure, compliments are great, but a good critic always makes my day.  
**

**Thanks again to everyone reading, reviewing, alerting, and favoriting this... I love you guys...  
**

**Arlechinna-Rosa  
**


	7. Hero

**Hey, everybody! Presenting, Chapter Seven! This one was pretty challenging to write, since it shows the first effects of the elusive Formula, but it was a heck of a lot of fun to come up with all the dialogue...  
**

**Just so you know, I posted a little one-shot companion fic to this story, featuring the Italy brothers, set right after the events of the first chapter. Check it out, if you want to... It's called 'Made With Love', and is about what happens after his chat with America in the first chapter. (...A thousand apologies for the shameless self-advertising, I can't help it...) I just thought I'd mention it, since it's technically part of the same "Story Universe" as this story...  
**

**The song for this chapter is Hero, by Sterling Knight. (Would you expect anything less for a story called 'The Hero's Formula'?) Yeah, I know, it's a romantic sort of song, but let's pretend for the moment that it isn't. There aren't any pairings in this story, so put that completely out of your head. For now, it is a platonic song, if you can manage that. It's technically in honor of America (the original hero), but the second verse is dedicated to Germany. I mean, come on, "Searching high and low, trying every row, but if I see your face, I barely know"? That is _so_ him and Canada. I seriously started laughing when I heard it, it was just that perfect.  
**

**Now, on to the story!  
**

* * *

Despite his imperturbable facade of stability, America was definitely freaking out on the inside. He had no idea how long it would take for the formula to start working, and he wasn't sure he could hold everyone off until it did.

_Please start working please start working please start working please start working..._

America racked his brain for an answer, trying to think of what they usually did at meetings. They fought, mostly, while some of the quieter nations brought books or video games. Occasionally, Germany would make everyone talk about the world's problems, but that never lasted more than a few minutes...

Okay, wait, hold up for a second. Problems. Heroes _solved_ problems. What were some problems in the world?

"Dudes, I have an awesome idea!" _Well, I will, in about five seconds..._

"Enlighten us, oh Great One..." England said sarcastically.

"Well, maybe we could all... take turns?" That sounded good. Taking turns was always a good thing, right?

"Take turns doing what, exactly?"

America wasn't sure who it was that spoke, so he just pointed in the general direction of the voice. "Good question, random nation! Why, take turns listing problems that need to be solved, of course! We could go around the room, everyone listing the problem that is top priority for them. Iggy can write everything down, and then, we take the items that appear the most, and we go around the room again, coming up with solutions!"

...Wow. That sounded... surprisingly smart. And it was totally original too, he'd just thought of it off the top of his head!

"That... might actually work," England admitted begrudgingly. He looked down at Germany for input. "Germany? What do you think?"

Germany hesitated for a moment before speaking. "...This is America's meeting now, isn't it? Of course, if any of his ideas prove to be particularly idiotic, or potentially detrimental to the fate of the world, I will not hesitate to intervene, but, for now, his plan seems... fairly safe."

America wasn't sure whether to be pleased at the affirmation, or insulted at the insinuation that any of his ideas might be _harmful_ to the world. He decided to just let it go for now.

"Okay, so, who wants to go first?" he asked, looking around the room. When no one jumped at the opportunity, he decided to just pick someone. "Austria! What problems do you have in your country?"

Austria looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

"What needs fixing in Austria? Tell the world!"

Austria frowned. Hungary nodded encouragingly at him, mouthing something America couldn't make out.

"...Well, actually, my country has recently been going through-" Austria was interrupted by a loud barking noise, and, immediately after, the sound of something shattering. Everyone spun around in their chairs, looking for the source of the noise. It was Sealand, holding a squirming white dog in his arms. Next to him, one of England's expensive vases was in pieces on the ground. Sealand forced a weak smile.

"Um... whoops?"

* * *

England could feel the anger rising up in him chest, like a volcano getting ready to erupt. That little brat Sealand had broken one of his vases! Not to mention the fact that he had brought a _dog_ to the World Conference!

"Sealand, what in the world do you think you're doing?!"

"I-it was an accident, England! I didn't mean to break your vase... I was trying to catch Hanatamago, without disrupting the meeting, and neither of us were looking where we were going, and, well..."

England stormed over to where the guilty Sealand stood. "That is it! You are formally banned from the World Conference for the rest of your soon to be very _short_ existence! Do you have any idea how much that vase was worth?!"

Sealand actually had the audacity to look _repentant_ at that remark, and hung his head in shame. "I'm so sorry, England... It really _was_ an accident, I promise..."

"Listen here, Sealand. I don't care one bit whether it was an accident or not! You broke a very expensive vase, and I expect you to pay every bit of what it was worth, down to the last tuppence!"

England turned and stalked back to his seat. Jerk Sealand. It probably _had_ been him who had put those thumbtacks on the chair, and Finland and Sweden were just covering for him, like a couple of overprotective parents. He glanced over his shoulder, and, sure enough, there they were, comforting him. England glared at them. Finland looked up, met his eyes, and returned the glare full-force. England smirked.

"Now, where were we?" he asked casually. That outburst had felt really, really good. He forcibly ignored his conscience, which was gently but relentlessly pricking at his heart.

* * *

Sealand felt like he was going to cry. He had officially blown his chances of getting recognized as a real nation, as well as his chances of earning England's respect. Also, he'd disappointed Su and Fin, who were talking in hushed tones by the door.

"See? I t'ld ya h' wasn't ready t' go to th' m'tings y't..."

"He didn't mean to break the vase, Sweden..."

"We sp'cific'lly t'ld him not t' bring H'nat'mago. He d'sob'yed us..."

_I'm so sorry, Papa Sweden! I really am!_

Sealand sadly but bravely walked over to where his adoptive caretakers stood. "...Should I wait down in the lobby for the rest of the meeting, Papa Sweden?"

"Th't m'ght be f'r th' best... Engl'nd's pr'tty mad at ya..."

"Yes sir... Let's go, Hana..."

Sealand walked out into the hall, Hanatamago following behind him. As soon as the conference room door swung shut, Sealand let the tears fall freely. He felt like his heart was breaking. What had he been thinking, wanting to go to the World Conference? He was just a little fort! He'd never been officially recognized by anyone, he'd never fought in a war... He was absolutely useless.

He boarded the lift, and rode it down to the lobby. The bright, cheerful music playing in the lift only seemed to emphasize the bitter ache in his chest. When he reached the lobby, he wandered around aimlessly for a little while, not really sure what to do. There was always the option of just leaving and going back to his fort, but he didn't want to worry Su and Fin by leaving without telling them.

Sealand sat down dejectedly on a couch in the lobby, wiping furiously at the tears that dripped down his face. Through uneven breaths, he instructed Hana to, no matter what, _stay put_. Hana seemed to understand, and sat obediently.

_What am I going to do now?_ Sealand wondered sadly. If England hadn't already hated him before, this had definitely put it over the edge. In addition, Sweden and Finland were disappointed with him, which hurt even more than England's hatred. Sealand didn't have anyone else in the world to turn to, except for Hana, of course. The poor dog seemed almost scared to comfort her young master, since the mishap had been partly her fault.

"D-don't feel bad, Hana... You didn't mean any harm... It's my fault for bringing you in the first place..." Sealand reached down and scratched the little dog behind her ears.

"Ruff?"

"I don't know, Hana... We're alone, now, so we'll just have to make the best of it."

Hanatamago tilted her head to the side, scratching behind her ear.

"I wish one of the other micronations was here," Sealand whispered. "Then I would at least have someone to hang out with..." But, alas, none of the other 'mini-countries' had been allowed to attend the meeting. All the big nations were upstairs in the meeting, so there was no hope of finding one of them wandering around... and there was absolutely no way he was going looking for any of England's brothers. They did live nearby, but they were annoying like jerk England, and they were also troublemakers. They did hate England, though, which was a small plus. Still, Sealand preferred to take his chances being alone.

Minutes dragged on, and Sealand could feel himself growing steadily bored. Not bored enough to go scouting out Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, of course. But still _very _bored. He tried to think of any nations who hadn't been invited to the meeting and who lived near England's house. He couldn't think of any. Even some of the small nations like Monaco, Luxembourg and Liechtenstein were in the meeting.

Maybe... he could befriend one of the humans? He didn't know many humans, only the ones who lived on his fort. He wasn't particularly eager to get to know any British jerks, though. If the citizens of England were anything like their personification, Sealand preferred to keep his distance.

"Oh, Hana, I wish I could go back and change it... I wish I could go back and warn myself not to disobey Fin and Su, and bring you along..."

"Ruff..."

"You're right, it probably wouldn't have made any difference... I never listen to anyone, do I? Maybe I'm not ready to be a real country yet..."

Hanatamago placed her paw on Sealand's leg comfortingly.

"...Thanks, Hana."

"Ruff!"

* * *

Back upstairs in the meeting room, America was finding it rather difficult to keep everyone focused and getting along. Even though Finland and Sweden had sent Sealand downstairs, the two were still furious with England for losing his temper and laying into the little fort. The other Nordics, along with almost every nation that had ever been one of England's colonies, were also giving him the evil eye. France looked rather disappointed in his friend as well, whispering, "Old habits die hard, I suppose," under his breath.

England completely refused to acknowledge that anything was wrong, and was lightly conversing with the nation next to him, but the smile on his lips wasn't quite reaching his eyes.

America sighed.

_Potion, please start working..._

Austria, miffed at being cut off by all the commotion, was venting to Hungary, who looked about ready to smack someone (probably England) with her frying pan. No one upset her Austria and got away with it.

_Potion, please start working..._

Switzerland's hands kept twitching, a sure sign of 'gun withdrawal'. Liechtenstein was trying to calm him down, but it didn't seem to be working very well.

_Potion, please start working..._

The Asians were all conversing amongst themselves, not-so-discreetly pointing to the Europeans as if to say, "_sad, isn't it_?"

_Potion, please_ _start working..._

Romano and Spain had gotten into an "argument," which consisted mostly of Spain relentlessly teasing Romano, and Romano ranting at him in rapid-fire Italian. Veneziano kept calling across the table for Romano to "be nice to big brother Spain," but that only made Romano angrier, and he started trying to throttle the Spainard.

_Potion, please start working..._

At some point, Belarus had begun walking around the table, just glaring at everyone, one by one. She had her knife out again, and seemed to be reading everyone's expressions for any signs of guilt in the prank played on Russia. America didn't dare tell her to sit back down.

_Potion, please start working..._

Russia kept smiling pointedly at various people whom he suspected might be guilty, willing them to crack and admit fault. America thanked his lucky stars Russia hadn't decided to start staring at _him_ yet. He would break within seconds if the commie looked at him like that, and he wasn't even guilty of anything...

_...WHAT THE HECK, POTION?! START WORKING ALREADY!_

What made things even worse for America, was that Germany hadn't done a thing. He certainly noticed the growing stress in the room, but made no move to show that it bothered him, or that he intended to do something about it.

_Jeez, Germany, real mature, making me do all the work... Whatever happened to that great, emotional speech you gave Italy last week, huh? How dare you dump all this responsibility on me?!  
_

It was then that America remembered that he had practically _told_ Germany to let him run the meeting by himself. "_...No, dude, I can do that! Don't worry about a thing, Germany! I'll handle everything! Just sit back and let the hero take over!_"

Yeah, that had been _real_ smart, hadn't it...

_Me and my big mouth... I should have just let Germany do all the ground work, like he usually does, and then I could have just taken credit for everything after the potion started working..._

Because that wasn't self-centered or unheroic at all. Nope. Not a bit.

Unfortunately, asking Germany to take over for a few minutes while America regrouped would sound immature and hypocritical now, since America had all but ordered Germany not to do anything to help. And, this time, Germany had actually listened. America still wasn't sure why. Germany never listened to America, he never agreed with him... and he never, _ever_ turned down the chance to be in charge. Why had he left America alone with this seemingly impossible task?

_...Because it __is__ impossible, that's why... Germany's trying to prove a point here, he knows I can't fix everything all by myself. He __wants__ me to come running back to him, so he can rub my failure in my face! Well, it ain't gonna work. There's no way I'm letting him have the satisfaction of knowing I need his help. Because I don't. I don't need Germany's help. I don't need anyone's help. That's just ridiculous..._

America looked up, staring across the long table at Germany, who looked incredibly nonplussed about the whole situation. Either that or he had one wicked poker face. Germany's sharp, calculating blue eyes met America's frustrated ones. Then, without missing a beat, the German gestured in front of him to the almost frighteningly chaotic scene between him and America, as if to say, "_Well? What are you going to do about this, America_?"

America responded with an annoyed death glare. Germany just offered a faint smile, which irked America to no end. He really hated Germany for leaving him high and dry like this. America had to admit, despite the emotionless exterior, the German had a vicious sense of humor when you got right down to it.

Then again, Germany didn't know about the formula. He had no clue that a potent potion was wreaking major havoc on his system, as well as that of every other nation in the room, at that very moment. Filled with fresh courage, America grinned triumphantly as he locked eyes with the stoic German man in an epic battle of wills.

_It's already begun... There's no stopping it now... All I have to do is wait this out, let the formula kick in, and I'm home free. Germany can think I'm nervous all he wants to. I'm not nervous, because I can't fail. Heroes don't fail, Germany, surely you've learned that by now? The Hero always wins in the end, that's how it works. The Hero. Always. Wins. Yeah, that's right, go on, keep smiling, I'll let you think you've won this round... But the battle was over before it even began, because the hero is fighting on the side of justice!_

_...The side of justice, eh? Are you sure about that, Alfred?_

The little voice in his head was back again. America hated the voice. The voice was annoying. The voice was incessant. It was also oddly Canadian sounding, for some reason.

_Shut up, voice. You have to raise your hand to speak in a meeting, that's one of Germany's rules... And, guess what, voice? You don't have_ _hands! So shut. The heck. Up._

_ ...Alfred, this is all going to backfire on you eventually..._

_I'm not listening... La la la la la... I can't heeeear you..._

_ What are you going to do when the potion sets in and Germany __can't__ help you anymore? The warning in the book said-_

_ I don't care what Artie's stupid magic book said! It's all going to work out in the end, so leave me alone!_

_ Too much of a good thing can be dangerous, Alfred..._

_ It's not Alfred now, it's America! Got that, voice? I'm the amazing U.S. of A., and I'm the Hero, so I'm never wrong, and that's final!_

_ Just keep telling yourself that, Al..._

"Will you just be quiet already?!"

A few nations turned to look at America, who smiled sheepishly when he realized he had spoken aloud. He let out a nervous laugh, waving tensely to the people who were looking curiously at him.

_Nice going, Mr. Hero..._

_ ...Shut up._

* * *

Italy bounced up and down in his seat impatiently, glancing around the room at the plethora of arguing nations. He hated seeing everyone fight, especially over trivial things like thumbtacks on a chair, or the breaking of a vase. Italy had broken plenty of Germany's things over the years, and there were lots of times when he had accidentally left things like a fork or a plate of pasta on Germany's chair, and Germany always forgave him afterward. Why couldn't everyone else just forgive and forget?

Germany looked to be just as bothered as Italy by the fighting, but he was forcibly keeping it from showing. Even so, Italy had known Germany long enough to know when he was upset about something, and Germany was _definitely_ upset.

"~Ve... Doitsu, why aren't you telling everyone to be quiet and listen to you, like you usually do?"

Germany looked up wearily. "I can't, Italia... I told America he could start the meeting by himself, it would be bad form to step in now..." He sighed. "In retrospect, telling America to take over was probably one of my more idiotic decisions, especially considering his track record... Look at him, smiling like that... He's got something crazy up his sleeve... I just don't know what it is."

Italy looked over at America, who, despite the big smile on his face, looked rather worried and unnerved by the chaos. "~Ve, he looks like he's not sure what to do about all the fighting..."

Germany scoffed. "Oh, you think? He doesn't have a clue what to do, he's just hoping everything will resolve itself into peace and harmony, and we'll all live happily ever after. He's an idealistic _dummkopf_, thinking that a stupid speech could actually inspire anyone to make _real_ change..."

Italy kept studying America's facial expressions, which were, to the Italian, as easy to read as a picture book. They kept changing, progressing steadily from anger, to guilt, to annoyance, to frustration, to pained resignation, then, all of a sudden, back to anger again.

"I think he would appreciate it if you helped him out a little, Doitsu..."

Germany looked at him incredulously. "What? Are you serious? You want me to help _America_?! No, he took this mess, and he can keep it. _I'm_ certainly not going to step in. If he wants my help, he can come and _beg_ for it, thank you very much."

Italy frowned. It wasn't like Germany to hold onto his pride like that. Somehow, everything about today just seemed _off_. France was somber and sad, Ukraine was angry, Finland was even angrier, England was masking his unhappiness behind annoyance and sarcasm, and even Germany was acting uncharacteristically grouchy.

_I really hope everything changes for the better, and soon..._

* * *

Canada was sweating bullets. As England finally stood up and dismissed everyone for a short break, Canada found himself sinking lower and lower into his seat. He'd decided not to come clean about the prank quite yet, instead choosing to wait it out. Unfortunately, this hadn't helped to ease his fears of being found out.

_What am I going to do, eh? I'll never survive seven more hours of this..._

Maybe he could just go home. His boss would probably forget to ask him about the meeting, and, even if he did remember, Canada could always make something up. Yes, that was a good idea. He should leave as soon as possible.

Canada pushed his chair back and stood up, picking up Kumajirou. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he should probably tell someone he was leaving, even if no one would miss him or notice his absence.

He thought about it for a moment. England would just think he was America, or not see him at all. America would probably want to know why Canada was leaving, as would France. He couldn't talk to Ukraine right now without fear of confessing under pressure. Cuba was still mad at America for the communist remark earlier, which meant Canada would probably get a black eye or a busted lip if he tried to talk to him. Japan would listen, Japan always listened, but he too would be curious as to why Canada was going home early. Even though the Asian man was known for refraining from speaking after he sensed the mood, Canada still didn't think it was wise to speak to him. Japan would instantly know that something was wrong, and probably figure everything out before Canada even said a word.

_Who else could I tell? Let me see, who tends to notice me most of the time, but probably wouldn't take any personal interest in who I am or what I'm doing?_

Then, it hit him.

"Come on, Kuma! We have to find Germany!"

"...Who are you again?"

"It doesn't matter right now, just come on!"

Canada looked around for the European nation. He had just been in his chair a second ago, where could he have gone?

"Mr. Kumachacha, have you seen Germany?"

"Who?"

Hmm... Maybe Kuma's forgetfulness wasn't isolated to Canada specifically. He supposed that should make him feel a little better about the bear constantly failing to remember his name...

"_Germany_, you silly old bear... You know who I mean, he's tall, blond, loud, a perfectionist... I need to talk to him, right away!"

"Is that him over there?"

Canada looked to where Kuma was pointing, and saw that it was, indeed, Germany. He was sweeping up the shards of the broken vase, with a broom he'd seemingly conjured out of thin air.

"That's him! Thank you, Mr. Kumakana!"

He raced around the table, Kumajirou tucked under his arm. When he reached Germany, he hesitated slightly. The German was kneeling in front of the shattered vase, grumbling to himself about the inefficiency of England's hotel staff. With the skill of someone who had had a _lot_ of practice over the years, he carefully brushed the shards of porcelain into a dustpan.

Canada felt like he might be intruding upon the German's privacy by listening in on his personal monologue, but he really, really needed to talk to him...

"M-Mr. Germany?"

Germany didn't answer, instead he just kept talking to himself. "I can't believe it... It makes absolutely no sense... There are days when I feel like I'm the only sane one here..." He laughed sardonically. "Of course, my own sanity isn't set in stone either... I mean, I did show up today, which probably says something about my mental health..."

"_Pardon moi_? Germany?"

Germany sighed. "...Who am I kidding? I'm no better than they are, even Italia knows that... Oh, I'm such an idiot, thinking I can do anything to help the world, when, really, I'm no more effective than America, with all his plagiarized speeches and aggravating enthusiasm..."

"Um, Germany? Can I talk to you for a minute, eh?"

"...And to top it all off, I've wasted _three whole hours_ trying to remember that one nation's name, and I still have no idea what it is..."

"Name? Whose name, eh? M-maybe I can help remember..."

"Oh, it's so close, right on the tip of my tongue, but my mind keeps going blank, right before I can think of it..."

"...Mr. Germany? Who are you talking about?"

"I should probably just give up already, but I _know_ he's the one who played that prank on Russia..."

_Prank? R-Russia?! Is he talking about me? Does he already know?!_

"If I could just think of his name, then maybe I would actually be able to focus on all the things we have to get done in this meeting... Arrgh, who is it?! I've never had so much trouble remembering someone before!"

_...Yeah. That's definitely me._

"Germany, it's me, Canada..."

"Let's see... His name is just one word, I think..."

"It's Canada. I'm Canada!"

"...Three syllables..."

"Yes! Yes! It's Canada! Ca. Na. Da."

"He lives up north, and he's close to America..."

"Yes, that's me! I'm right above America! He even calls me his hat sometimes! That's _me_, Germany!"

"Isn't he bilingual, too?"

"_Oui, Allemagne, oui! Je parle Anglais et Fran__ç__ais!_"

"And he likes pancakes, right? I think it was Prussia who mentioned that..."

"Germany, it's me, Canada! If you would just turn around, you might actually realize that I'm standing _right here_!"

"...Oh, what _is_ his name?"

Both Germany and Canada were growing more and more frustrated, for entirely different reasons.

"Germany, please, just turn around..."

"Come on, think, think, think... He has to have a name, so why can't I think of it?"

"Really, it's not that hard, especially since I'm _right behind you_!"

"_Think think think think think think_..."

Canada couldn't take it anymore. "My name is _Canada_, Germany! I'm_ Canada_!"

"_CANADA, THAT'S IT!_" Germany cried out, jumping to his feet. Almost everyone in the entire room turned to stare, surprised at his sudden outburst. The German turned red, and coughed awkwardly, deliberately avoiding everyone else's gaze.

Trying not to let his embarrassment show, Germany gingerly picked up the dustpan and broom, and finally turned around. He was extremely startled to find himself face to face with the elusive Canadian. His clear blue eyes widened in stunned recognition, and he looked like he might drop the dustpan he was holding.

_Well, at least he didn't look right through me..._

"Y-you!" the German sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at the Canadian.

Canada smiled weakly. "Hi?"

"You- I mean... It's-" Germany was tripping over his words, still shocked at the sight of the very person whose name he had been trying to remember all morning. "You- you- ...You're Canada!" he exclaimed at last, the realization still fresh in his mind.

"Yes, that's me," Canada whispered, holding Kumajirou tighter.

"_Who?_" Kumajirou asked disinterestedly.

Germany looked like he was still trying to get everything sorted out in his mind. "B-but... I... You... Y-you're _Canada_..."

"Yes, Germany, I think we covered that already..."

Germany frowned, deep in thought. "But... you were... _pretending_ to be America, earlier... weren't you?"

Canada felt a slight pang of guilt at the memory. "...Correct."

"But... _why_?"

"Uhhh..."

_Okay, Matt, think... You can't tell him the truth, you can't let anyone find out! Just lie, it's easy! Make something up... A reason, an excuse, anything but the actual truth... Come on, think of something!_

* * *

Seven of England's most powerful faeries hovered above the meeting room, frowning at all the chaos and anarchy below them. They now understood why the impulsive American had been so eager to change things; the situation was clearly getting out of hand. It took them quite some time before they spotted the man who had been the first to drink the potion, a shy, blond fellow clutching a polar bear. He was talking to a tall, tense-looking man holding a broom and dustpan. The faeries could tell that the one with the polar bear was harboring a very big secret, and it was hurting him badly to keep it inside. Of course, it wasn't going to stay a secret for much longer, at least, not if the faeries could help it.

Unheard by the two nations below, they began a slow, melodious chant, ethereal voices rising and falling with a haunting lilt.

_**Thou who providence itself forgot**_

_** Remembered shall thou be today**_

_** You will be the first to yield**_

_** Guilt shan't eat thy heart away**_

_** Confession benefits the soul**_

_** Clear thy conscience, don't delay**_

_** Let repentance make you whole**_

_** In this choice you have no say...**_

* * *

"_Kanada_? I asked you a question, you know..." Germany was still waiting impatiently for a reply.

Canada blinked curiously. What in the world had just happened? He felt different somehow, though he couldn't put his finger on what exactly had changed...

The guilt that had been steadily growing deep inside Canada's chest came rushing to the surface in an instant. Guided by a compellation not his own, he blurted out, "I didn't want you to know I'd been in the meeting room early, because I thought you might realize that I was the one responsible for the prank!"

The sudden, truthful admission startled Germany, but, to Canada, it somehow felt like a breath of pure, refreshing, life-giving air, after being underwater for an eternity.

Germany looked surprised at first, but his expression quickly turned triumphant. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ it was you, it had to be!" He blushed slightly. "I just... couldn't remember your name, that's all."

Oddly enough, Canada couldn't bring himself to be upset with Germany for forgetting him, just like everyone else always did. He only felt the strange, potent remorse that weighed heavily on his chest.

"Wh-what I did was wrong, and I'm really, really sorry, Germany! The prank was immature and vengeful, I know, but I was so mad at England for hurting France that I couldn't see straight, and all I did was cause more problems for everyone, and then it turned out England wasn't even the one who ended up getting hurt, it was Russia instead, and, _mon Dieu_, then I got _really_ scared, and I've been feeling just awful all morning, because I knew I really messed up, and I knew someone would figure it out eventually..." The rush of words came out without any way to stop it, as if someone had taken control of his mouth and was sticking words into it that he never intended to say. At last, he ran out of words (and air), and fell into nervous silence, hugging Kumajirou close to his chest while he fervently awaited judgment.

After a few moments of silence, he looked up at Germany, who was keeping his expression maddeningly neutral.

"A-aren't you going to yell at me, Mr. Germany?"

Germany looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose I probably _should_... but... since you technically admitted fault on your own... I suppose I don't _need_ to yell."

"Oh, _merci_, _Allemagne_!" Canada might have hugged him if it hadn't been for the fact that Canada was still holding Kuma, and Germany had a dustpan full of broken vase in one hand.

Suddenly, a new idea occurred to him. Once it took hold of his mind, it wouldn't let go, and he was possessed with a new need to say it out loud.

"M-Mr. Germany, do you think there's any way you could get everyone's attention for me? I... I want to apologize to everyone personally, E-England and Russia in particular..."

Germany sighed. "...I don't see why not. Very well, come with me... We need to hurry, though, the break will be over soon..."

Canada followed quietly after him, suddenly filled with a bizarre, uncontainable need to tell someone about the time he replaced all of America's "I Love New York" shirts with t-shirts that had the Canadian flag on them, to get back at him for all the "Canada is America's hat" jokes. And also that time he had taken advantage of his invisibility and played April Fools jokes on all of the nations, one by one. And maybe even the time he had taken photos of England in one of his occasional "punk" moods, and posted the pictures on the internet, letting America take the blame for everything.

_No, Matt, what are you thinking?! You can't tell anyone those things! It's bad enough you just told Germany about the thumbtacks, you'll never make it out of here alive if you say anything more!_

"...Germany? I-I need to tell you something, eh..."

_What?! No! Stop! Oh, what is wrong with me? Why do I feel like telling the world all of my deepest, darkest secrets?! Someone, stop me, please, before I say something really embarrassing!  
_

* * *

England sat in his chair, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, due to all the harsh glares he was receiving from around the room. He wasn't really all that upset anymore, in fact, once he'd calmed down, he'd come to the realization that the vase wasn't actually priceless. It was just a pretty decoration, easily replaceable. But... he just couldn't bring himself to admit to anyone that he may have been just a _tiny_ bit in the wrong this time. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. Sealand was irresponsible, and a brat, and annoying, and definitely deserved to be punished for disrupting the meeting.

England suddenly felt an odd chill running up and down his spine. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed it, but no one showed any signs of having feeling anything out of the ordinary.

* * *

The faeries were hesitant to do anything to their friend England, since he was one of the only nations who still believed they existed, but they didn't have any say in the matter. England had drunk the potion just like everyone else. Besides, it might actually be good for the stubborn Brit to experience a change of heart for once. His pride was an immense stumbling block in his life, and he was always tripping on it when he needed to admit that he was wrong.

The lead faerie began the chant, and her sisters quickly followed suit.

_**These words you have heard before**_

_** Pride cometh before the fall**_

_** Without delays, change your ways**_

_** Demolish bitterness' wall**_

_** Whether you wish this true or no**_

_** In the end it matters not**_

_** You'll humbly forgive, and beg forgiveness**_

_** From all those friends with whom you've fought**_

* * *

England frowned, confusion afflicting his mind. He no longer felt quite so angry anymore. In fact, he didn't feel angry at all. At anyone. Not even Sealand. It was very odd. There was a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, and everything just felt _wrong_ all of a sudden.

_What is going on? ...I haven't felt this bloody strange since Norway accidentally put a spell on me, and... Oh, no. No, no, no... Norway wouldn't... Just because I... No, he hasn't moved from his chair, he couldn't possibly have done anything... This isn't a spell, it's something else... What exactly is happening to me?_

For some bizarre reason, he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. There was... something else that he had to do first.

"A-America? America, you git, where are you?"

* * *

"I hate the stupid potato jerk," Romano muttered darkly to himself, though it was apparently still loud enough for Spain to hear.

"Oh, Lovi, hate is such a strong word... Perhaps you just... strongly dislike Germany?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "No, actually, I'm pretty darn sure that I hate him. ...Yeah, I hate him. I hate you too, Spain... I hate everyone..."

* * *

This one was going to be difficult, the faeries knew. He was bitter, and easily angered, and it seemed that his mouth was only capable of voicing harsh insults and defensive sarcasm. Still, it was clear he wouldn't be any more resistant to the potion as any of the others. His temper was extremely short, but his will was rather weak.

_**Spiteful hatred, stay no more**_

_** Kindness fill the void that's left**_

_** Fate is knocking at the door**_

_** Thy mouth of insults now bereft**_

_** All who you feel did you wrong**_

_** Now with open arms forgive**_

_** Soft words turn the wrath away**_

_** Alone you were not meant to live**_

* * *

Romano shook his head back and forth in a futile attempt to clear it. He was dizzy and confused all of a sudden, and he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing at the moment.

"Are you okay, Lovi?" Spain asked, putting his hand on Romano's shoulder.

Romano frowned. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt. He had things he wanted to say, but his mouth was refusing to say them. All the sarcastic, angry words that usually came so easily, now wouldn't come at all.

_L-leave me alone, Spain..._

"...Uh, Spain?"

"Si, Romano, what is it?"

"Ummm..."

_Tell him to go away, mouth... Tell him to GO AWAY!_

Romano opened his mouth to tell Spain exactly that, but something completely different came out instead.

"_Grazie_ for taking care of me as a child, Spain!"

"Q-que?" Spain looked baffled, slightly stunned by Romano's declaration.

Romano, equally surprised, turned bright red and fervently tried to curse, but it seemed that his mouth wasn't quite done embarrassing him yet.

"Y-you really made a good boss and I'm-a so sorry for not working harder back then but you see I wasn't doing it because I didn't like you or anything it was only because I didn't like being in a new place so far away from my fratel-" Romano clamped his hand over his mouth before it could betray him any more than it already had. Spain stared at him curiously, an innocent smile on his face.

_...Oh, chigi, I am so screwed right now.  
_

* * *

_**Potion, potion, do thy work**_

_** Red, white and blue declares it so**_

_** Hide the flaws beneath a lie**_

_** Only goodness shalt thou show**_

_** One by one, all shall succumb**_

_** Inhibition crumbles hence**_

_** Even the strongest shan't escape**_

_** Magic melts the paramount defense**_

_** Selfless, selfless, they shalt be**_

_** Vile pride, contempt, adieu!**_

_** No enmity or bitterness**_

_** Shall ever look to rise anew**_

_** Faeries, faeries, joining hands**_

_** Round and round the earth we'll fly**_

_** Joining in eternal bands**_

_** A world torn apart by hatred's cry!**_

* * *

French Translations:

Pardon Moi - Pardon me

Oui, Allemagne, Oui - Yes, Germany, yes

Je parle Anglais et Français - I speak English and French

Mon Dieu - My God

Merci, Allemagne - Thank you, Germany

* * *

**Oh, the suspense... Hehe, not really, but it is kind of a cliffhanger, especially considering the next chapter is our intermission, which deviates from the current plot and characters just a tad. That means you'll have to wait two chapters instead of one, before you figure out what happens next... I'm so mean... But the intermission is gonna be great, just you wait and see. I have a feeling it's going to be one of the most fun chapters to write (and hopefully, for you all to read).  
**

**Any guesses on who the intermission chapter will be about? Maybe I'll make this another "contest", since I finished the prize for animefairi... Let's see... The first person to guess this correctly will get... a one-shot featuring two characters of their choice, how does that sound? It shouldn't be too hard for you guys to guess who the person is... I didn't give any real, concrete hints, but, all you really have to do is use the process of elimination a little, and you've got your man. Or woman. I'm certainly not telling.  
**

**Note: I'm not going to do a potion poem for every single nation, but if you have one character you'd particularly like to see, go ahead and tell me in a review, okay? I might not be able to do them all, but I am very open to suggestions. Just so you know, Germany and Belarus are already getting poems for sure, because I was randomly inspired and wrote ones for them already. **

**Also, in addition to that, is there any character I haven't written for yet that you really like, or a character that you think I write well, and would like to see again? Feel free to make as many suggestions as you want, though I can't promise I'll be able to do them all.  
**

**In case you didn't notice, the potion will affect everyone differently. In my mind, in addition to making everyone completely kind and selfless, it also picks out the person's worst flaw, (or biggest weakness,) and then reverses that part of them. For example, England's flaw is his pride and his inability to admit when he's wrong, so that trait will be completely eliminated from his persona. Same with Romano, his main problem is his mouth, so now he can't say anything _but_ nice things to people. Canada's has to do with the fact that he was holding onto that big secret, so now he apparently won't be able to keep secrets at all...  
**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Read and review!  
**

**~ Arlechinna Rosa  
**


	8. Awesome Needs No Theme Music

**It's finished! Finally! The 'Intermission' chapter is complete! I'm so sorry for the unexpected delay, but I completely forgot to factor in how taxing school is... I had most of this written before school started, but I've had almost no free time whatsoever to write the rest, up until now.  
**

**I'm actually finding that the chapter's not as brilliant as I implied in the original hype, but I think it's decent... The reasons I specified it from the other chapters are 1) if all goes according to plan, it should end up being about the middle chapter of the story, and 2) because it introduces the fourth main character of this story. (The first three are America, Italy, and Sealand, FYI.)  
**

**This chapter actually defies chronology a bit, and takes place back around when the meeting started, at about nine o'clock. (Though, if you think about it, it's really ten o'clock where this chapter takes place, due to time zones.)  
**

**As you can probably tell from the chapter title, there's no song for this chapter. In my mind, this guy's so awesome he doesn't need background music.  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

_Berlin, Germany  
_

_Saturday, 9:56 A.M._

The only thing worse than being woken up early on a day you were _really_ hoping to sleep in for a few more hours, is being woken up early on a day you were hoping to sleep in for a few more hours, by a blindingly bright light shining in your eyes. The self-proclaimed "Awesome" Kingdom of Prussia, unfortunately, was experiencing this unpleasant sensation firsthand.

The former nation tiredly blinked his eyes open, squinting at the sunlight pouring in through the basement window. It was a small window, but the light coming through it was now shining directly into his face.

_West really needs to spring for some curtains down here..._

Speaking of the personification of Germany...

"Hey, West!" Prussia called loudly. "You awake?"

There was no response. Unusual...

"West? West, I'm hungry!"

Still no answer. Just the sound of Gilbird tweeting impatiently in his ear. The little yellow bird was probably hungry as well.

Prussia groaned irritably, climbed out of bed, and crossly began getting dressed.

_He better not be sleeping... I'm the only one in this house who's allowed to sleep in this late, he should know that by now..._

"West, there had better be one incredibly awe-inspiring breakfast on the table when I get up there! I didn't raise you to be a slacker! I will not hear that you have decided to shirk your unofficial, compulsory breakfast duties! I demand food!"

Still no answer.

_That's... weird... Why would he be ignoring me? He wouldn't be outside walking the dogs now, would he? No, he usually does that when he first gets up..._

After he finished getting dressed, Prussia decided to hunt down his currently AWOL little brother, and demand to know why he could not smell a scrumptious German breakfast on the table. He wandered aimlessly through the house, calling the blond's name, but, much to Prussia's chagrin, Germany was absolutely nowhere to be found. Aster, Blackie and Berlitz, on the other hand, were all present and accounted for, refuting Prussia's earlier theory that Germany might have taken them for a walk. Where ever Germany was, it seemed he had felt it necessary to go alone. This in itself did not particularly alarm Prussia, but he was a bit troubled by the fact that Germany had not told him where he was going, or even that he was leaving. Prussia's little brother had simply vanished without a trace.

_H-he's not here... I can't believe he left the house... And, without telling the Awesome Me? How could mein bruder do something like that?!_

"What if... what if he's not coming back?" Prussia mused anxiously. "What if something happened to him? What if he's lost, or hurt, or... or... No, no, don't think things like that, self. He's... he's fine... He's grown up now, he can take care of himself. There's a perfectly good reason that he's not here. A... perfectly... good... reason..."

Prussia was not worried. Germany would be fine. Prussia was not worried. He wasn't. Everything was going to be all right. He was not worried...

He had to stay rational. This was okay. This was nothing that warranted a freak-out. So what if West had left the house for a little while? Prussia wasn't bothered by that.

Not bothered at all.

He wasn't even thinking about his little brother right now. West was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he was contemplating the nice weather, and the pleasant feeling of being home alone.

Ah, yes, what a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the solitary bird was chirping, and the house was notably empty.

It was so positively ideal that Prussia felt like screaming.

But he wouldn't. He would not freak out. He would be rational. He would stay calm, and approach the problem with a level head.

...

"WEEEEEEESSSST! _WO BIST DUUUUU_?!"

Prussia raced around the house, yelling his brother's name over and over.

There was still no sign of Germany.

Forcing himself to calm down, Prussia struggled to shift into his callous-and-unfeeling-empire mode. Concerned-big-brother mode was simply not conducive to the current situation.

_If this is West's idea of a joke, it's not very funny at all..._

Prussia meandered into the kitchen, and, feeling quite depressed, sat down at the counter.

A piece of starch white paper was resting pristinely on the countertop in front of him. A letter, it seemed, written in black ink that starkly contrasted the paper on which it was written. Prussia easily recognized Germany's neat, crisp handwriting.

Prussia picked up the note and eagerly started to read it.

_**Leiber Preußen,**_

_What's this?_ _F__ü__r mich? I wonder what it says... Maybe it explains West's sudden disappearance..._

_** By the time you read this, I will be in London. I will not be back until Thursday, on account of the World Conference.**_

_World Conference? Well, that would explain it... But, what World Conference is he talking about? West didn't tell me about any meetings going on today..._

_**I'm assuming you forgot all about the fact that we rescheduled the World Conference to this week due to France and England's spat, so I'll clear things up right now by saying that, yes, I did tell you about the scheduling change. More than once, in fact.**_

"Well, good for you, _Herr Conscientious_," Prussia scoffed derisively. He was finding it much easier to be annoyed at his brother now that he knew the younger man had not been abducted by aliens, or assassinated by Romano's mafia.

_**While I am gone, please make sure Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster are fed regularly. No, 'regularly' does not mean, 'whenever Prussia feels like it'. Twice a day will do. The food is in the pantry closet. Also, take them for a walk at least once a day. Oh, and remember to feed Gilbird too. Not that I actually care about the stupid little bird, but it seems that I am the one who ends up feeding him most of the time.**_

"Hey! Gilbird isn't stupid! And I do feed him! I just forget he's there sometimes!"

_**Until I get back, I want you to behave yourself. No, you may not invite any friends over. Yes, I expect you to keep the house clean. No, you may not purchase excessive amounts of wurst and beer and charge it to my account. Yes, I will kill you if you get arrested before I return home.**_

"Gosh, West, I'm not a child..." Prussia rolled his eyes in overstated exasperation.

_**I should get back to Berlin by about 3 o'clock Thursday afternoon. Even so, do not think that it is all right to do nothing at all until noon on Thursday, and then try to clean the entire house in three hours. Trust me, it will not work. I will be able to tell.**_

"Hmmph. As if the Awesome Me would actually do something like that..."

_**Also, I sincerely apologize if you were expecting a lavish breakfast this morning (that is, if it's still morning by the time you read this). If you are hungry, there is bread, meat and fruit in the fridge. Take as much as you like. Do not touch anything else. I took a complete inventory of the refrigerator last night, so I will know exactly what you take.**_

Prussia sighed. "If that isn't considered obsessive-compulsive... I do not know what is."

_** For dinner, I made you some stew. It is also in the refrigerator. Warm it up in the microwave for twenty-five seconds at a time, until it is warm. Be very careful not to burn yourself.**_

"For the last time, I'm not a child, West! Stop acting like you're my mother or something!"

_**In addition, as a token of apology for having to leave you on your own for a few days, I made you some Schwarzw**__**ä**__**lder Kirschtorte, as I know it is your favorite.**_

Prussia froze, staring at the paper in borderline ecstasy. "B-black Forest cake? West made _Black Forest cake_?! Yes! That stuff is the most awesome dessert _ever_!"

_** Do not spoil your dinner by eating the cake in the afternoon. Also, I worked hard on it, so please don't eat it all at once. If you do, you will most certainly get sick.**_

"Awww... No fair... Dinner's not for, like, another six hours... And _Schwarzw__ä__lder Kirschtorte_ tastes a million times better in large amounts!"

_**In case of an emergency, the World Conference is being held at the Hotel Carson in London. You already have my cell phone number, but I will most likely have my phone turned off during the meetings. If you are faced with a particularly pressing crisis, (no, the fact that there is no beer in the immediate vicinity does not constitute a crisis,) I have written the phone number and address of the Hotel Carson on a separate piece of paper. **_

Sure enough, there was a small piece of paper sitting next to the note, with the contact information for the hotel.

_** If there is ever a real, genuine problem, call the number on the paper, and one of the hotel staff members will inform me of the issue. Again, I do not want to hear that you called simply to tell me that you got a new high score on your video game, or wanted to tell me how 'awesome' you are for the 1,853,592nd time. (You didn't think I was keeping track, did you?)**_

Prussia frowned. "He's... _kidding_ about keeping track of how many times I've told him that I'm awesome... Isn't he?"

"~Piyo!" Gilbird replied confidently.

_**In short, if I get a call from you, I want adequate documentation from either the hospital, or the court system. Preferably the former, as I gave my lawyer vacation time for the next few weeks, and I would hate to have to call him up. Then again, I did say I would have to kill you if you got yourself arrested, didn't I? In that case, I suppose a funeral director would be of more help than a lawyer.**_

"Oh, thanks a lot, West..."

At this point, the writing broke its stiff, overly formal appearance, as if Germany had found himself pressed for time and rushed the last few lines.

_**I... didn't mean that. Forget I said that. But, I still don't want to hear that you broke the law, intentionally or otherwise. Really, what I'm trying to say is, stay out of trouble, all right, Bruder? Be good, and, please, stay safe. I will be home very soon.**_

_** Mit besten Gr**__**ü**__**ß**_en

_** Deutschland**_

Prussia read the last part of the letter a few times over, before setting it back down on the counter. So... West was gone for a few days. That held distinct possibilities. On the other hand, West had said to behave. On the _other_ other hand, since when was Prussia expected to listen to his _younger_ brother? If anything, Prussia should be the one making all the rules, not Germany.

On the other hand, West had practically begged him not to get into any trouble. It wasn't often that Germany expressed any concern for Prussia.

_Hmm... What can I do that's entertaining, but won't violate any of the many, many stipulations in this letter?_

The options were, unfortunately, minimal. Aside from writing in his diary, updating his blog, watching TV, or playing video games, there weren't a lot of fun things that he could do at home. Germany had obviously learned from past experience, and covered all the bases this time. Prussia wasn't even allowed to invite anyone over to the house.

Of course, West hadn't said anything about Prussia having to _stay_ in the house...

Prussia grinned slyly at that thought. Loopholes were a Prussian's best friend, and he had just stumbled upon a very promising one. The letter had not mentioned Prussia having to stay here in Berlin, only that he couldn't get in trouble, and, well, trouble was a relative term anyways. He could leave the house, do whatever he wanted for the entire day, and there would be plenty of time to clean later. Surely West didn't expect him to do any of that boring cleaning _before_ he had his fill of fun...

Then again, even if he did leave... Where would he go? There was a World Conference going on this week, so none of his friends would be free to hang out with him. They would all be enjoying themselves at the meetings, yelling and fighting and threatening to declare war, just like Prussia himself used to do when he was a feared and powerful kingdom all those years ago.

_Ah, those were the good old days..._

Hey. Wait a second. Why not show up at today's meeting himself? That could prove to be amusing. He could surprise France and Spain! West would probably flip out at him for upsetting his precious agenda, but Prussia had long ago gotten used to that...

"What do you think, Gilbird? Should I grace the World Conference with my awesome presence?"

"~Piyo!" the yellow chick cheeped ambiguously.

"...So help me, you will learn to talk."

It was then that the phone rang.

Prussia scowled, then reached over and grabbed the receiver, wondering who on earth would be calling Germany on the day of a scheduled World Conference. Prussia's younger brother had no friends to speak of besides Italy and Japan, and neither of them would have a reason to call the house...

"_Hallo_? This is the Awesome Prussia speaking, how can I help you? Or, better yet, how can _you_ help _me_?"

"_Prusko_, stop fooling around and focus for once," a vaguely familiar sounding voice instructed, before the terse command was interrupted by a short coughing spell. "...I-I need a favor from you," the gruff voice finished softly.

Prussia frowned. "..._Slowakei_? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Slovakia replied hoarsely.

"Whoa... You sound horrible..."

"You never were one for tact, were you, Prussia? But, yes, if you must know, I've come down with a very bad head cold which has prevented me from attending the meeting today. That is why I need your help. Now, it's very-"

"Wait, wait, back up," Prussia interrupted hastily. "You need _my_ help?"

"I never thought I'd say it, but... yes. I have something I need you to do for me."

Prussia wanted to say, '_heck, no_', and slam the receiver down in a very dramatic fashion, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist at least finding out what the Slovak wanted, before getting to the enjoyable part of emphatically refusing to help. "Hm... What exactly do you want me to do?"

There was a hesitant pause, before Slovakia finally replied, "O-oh, it's not much, really, it isn't... I promise it won't take up very much of your time..."

"Just spit it out, Slovakia. What. Do. You. Want?"

"Well, you see... My sister, Czech Republic, she is expected to speak at the meeting today, give an update on the current state of affairs in her country, you know how it goes... The problem is... she forgot her speech. I've got it right here." The rustling of papers emanated from the receiver, verifying the Slovak's statement. "I tried calling her to let her know she left it behind, but she has her phone turned off, and so does everyone else in the meeting. I can't take the papers to her myself, given that I'm, well, a bit under the weather, so... I was wondering if _you_ might be willing to go to London and give it to _Ceska_ for me."

"Okay, let me get this straight. You want me to go all the way to London just to drop off a lame speech for your sister?" There was no way in the world that was going to happen. Never mind that he'd been thinking about dropping by the meeting anyway. That was totally irrelevant. The Awesome Prussia did _not_ do favors.

"As I said, it won't take long," Slovakia assured him. "Besides, I sincerely doubt you had anything better to do today."

Prussia flinched at the grating accuracy of the statement. "O-oh yeah? Well, how do you know that? Maybe I've got some awesome plans already made!" He didn't, but Slovakia didn't need to know that. "M-maybe I don't have time to do you any favors today, you ever think of that?"

Slovakia scoffed. "Prussia, the extent of your day never transcends lounging around in the basement playing video games that promote laziness and senseless violence, and writing nonsense in that pathetic diary of yours."

"Hey, insulting the Awesome Me isn't making me any more eager to help you out. I mean, jeez, if you really dislike me that much, then why can't you just get someone else to do this?"

"I assure you, Prussia, you weren't my first choice. However, you seem to be the only person in the world with nation clearance who lives within reasonable distance, and wasn't already invited to the World Conference."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "Wonderful."

"So... will you do it? A small favor, for an old friend?"

Prussia contemplated this for a moment. He had already been planning on heading to London, so it wasn't like he would be going out of his way, but he didn't want to cultivate the belief that he was developing a trend of being _nice_. That would ruin the whole '_fierce and supremely awesome conquering empire_' image he had going.

"Well... I don't know," Prussia answered at last, wanting to at least make Slovakia grovel just a little. "I did have some other things I wanted to get done today..."

"_Prosim_, Prussia. This is extremely important, even more than you know. I'll find a way to make it up to you later, I promise."

Prussia felt a smile developing on his lips at the obvious desperation in Slovakia's voice. Prussia liked feeling needed, even if he wasn't always eager to help.

"Hmm... It's tempting," he admitted. Even someone so magnificently self-sufficient as him knew that it was always useful to have a decent-sized list of people who owed you favors. On the other hand... he didn't want to make this _too_ easy on Slovakia, right? "...Unfortunately for you, I still don't think that I can help."

"I see..." Slovakia mused. His voice sounded suddenly devious, despite his cold. "It's because your little brother Germany told you that you couldn't leave the house, am I right?"

Prussia flinched at the mocking accusation, all thoughts of continuing this pointless banter evaporating from his mind like steam off a hot tin roof. "Wh-what?! That's... that's ridiculous! West has... absolutely nothing to do with this. I-I could leave the house... if I wanted to..." It was the truth, technically. The letter had not specifically mentioned such a stipulation, nor had it directly stated that he was not allowed to come to the meeting. Whether Germany would be particularly pleased by his brother's presence was another matter entirely, but Prussia never took too much time meditating on things like that.

"Sure," Slovakia said sarcastically. "I _completely _believe you."

"I'm serious! West's not the boss of me, I can do whatever I want!"

"Then why are you so scared to show up at the meeting?"

That was it. No one called the Awesome Prussia scared. _No one_. Especially not a stupid Slovak with a head cold.

"Okay, listen up, Slovakia. I am, beyond the shadow of a doubt, entirely, thoroughly, absolutely, _not_ scared. Of anything. At all."

"Reeeally..." Slovakia said, his voice tauntingly disbelieving.

"Yes, _really_." Prussia had thrown logic to the wind at this point, and no longer gave weight to the possible consequences of what he was about to agree to. Slovakia had challenged Prussia's _honor_, and Prussia wasn't going to take it lying down. "Listen here, I'm not scared one tiny little bit, no way, no how. And you know what I'm gonna do to prove it to you? I'm going to take those stupid papers to London, and I'm going to give them to your sister, in front of everyone there, including my boring little brother. So _there_."

Prussia was too busy valiantly defending his reputation that he completely missed the satisfied, almost gloating sound that manifested in Slovakia's voice. "Oh, are you absolutely _sure_, Prussia? I certainly wouldn't want to cause you to-"

"Don't you dare try to talk me out of it now," Prussia interjected sharply. "I've made up my mind, and once a mind so awesome as mine is made up, it cannot be changed."

"Well then... _Dakujem_," Slovakia said at last, trying and failing to keep from sounding too terribly triumphant.

Prussia sighed heavily, his brain finally catching up to his mouth. "Yeah, well... you owe me big time for this, Slovakia."

"I'll be sure to send you some homemade _medovníčky_ when I get the chance."

And, suddenly, Prussia found himself willing to deliver speech notes to the _moon_ if Slovakia were to ask it of him. Slovakia was snarky and clever in a gratingly annoying way, but his country's cooking was the stuff of legend. Even better than his sister's, some would say.

"...Throw in some of those really delicious tart-things with the chocolate cream, and you've got yourself a deal."

"I think I can manage that, Prussia."

Prussia chuckled. _Operation: Meeting Crasher_ was a go. Technically, it was more like, '_Operation: Boring Document Delivery_,' but '_Meeting Crasher_' just sounded so much more exciting. Maybe he could even convince Germany to let him stick around for a while. Prussia's little brother was always talking about how pointless and ineffective the World Conferences always were, so who better to give those pathetic nations of the world a lesson in Germanic efficiency than the master of awesome himself?

Yep, it was settled. Prussia was headed to London.

...Right after he had some of that Black Forest Cake.

* * *

**Well, technically, the letter said he shouldn't eat the cake in the _afternoon_, right? If you think about it, it's still a couple of hours _before_ noon... :p**

**Did you like it? I've written Prussia before, but this was my first time posting something where I really got into more of his canon personality, which was actually really, really fun for me. I hope I did okay.  
**

**Anyway, Slovakia's phone call was a last-minute addition. It felt weird putting him in there, as I don't usually use non-canon characters, (I fear the OC more than anything else,) but I realized while writing this chapter that I had inadvertently stuck Slovakia at home with a cold in chapter six, and it would be a shame to not take advantage of that fact if I could. I had originally planned on Prussia just deciding to go to London on his own, but Slovakia's nicely-timed illness was a major Checkov's Gun. I hope the fact that he's not really canon didn't bother any of you. If it makes any of you feel better, this is the only chapter in which he'll make a cameo, so it's not like it'll become a regular thing.  
**

**(On another note, I actually had something similar happen with the thumbtack incident; it was originally just supposed to be someone randomly sitting in the wrong chair, but then I came up with the idea of using Italy to switch the place cards around, which I think worked much better.)  
**

**Medovníčky is a popular Slovak dessert that's... sort of like honey flavored cookies, I guess? I haven't tried it yet, but I've heard it's really good.**

**Oh, and yes, Germany was kidding about keeping track of all the times Prussia says he's awesome. It's called sarcasm, Prussia. _Sarcasm_.  
**

_**Chapter Translations  
**_

**_[German]  
_**

**_Wo bist du? - Where are you?_  
**

**_Lieber Preu___****ß**en - Dear Prussia  


**____****Schwarzw**_**ä**__**lder Kirschtorte**_ - Black Forest Cake  


**_Mit besten G___****r**_**ü**__**ß**_en - My best regards (a deliberately formal letter closing)  


**____****Slowakei - Slovakia  
**

**____****[Slovak]  
**

**____****Prusko - Prussia  
**

**____****Ceska - Czech  
**

**____****Prosim - Please  
**

******____****Dakujem - Thank you**  



	9. My Eyes (On The Rise)

**The song for this chapter is 'My Eyes' (alternatively called 'On The Rise') from _Dr. Horrible's Song-Along Blog_. I don't particularly recommend watching the whole musical (there's some suggestive content in it that I don't care for), but this song is just... wow. And it fits this chapter perfectly. It fits this whole _story_ perfectly, actually. There's also a bit of double irony in the title, 'My Eyes', that will make much more sense after you read this chapter.  
**

* * *

London, England - 10:39 A.M.

* * *

Norway stormed across the room to where his brother Iceland was sitting, and plopped down in a chair beside him.

Iceland looked up at him, expression neutral. "What's got you so upset, Norway?"

"Denmark's a jerk."

"What else is new?"

Norway rolled his eyes, and stood to his feet once more. Denmark had been picking on him all morning, and Norway was determined to enact his revenge somehow. "Ice, help me find something I can throw at Denmark."

"I don't particularly feel like helping you right now," Iceland said flatly, before turning back to his book.

"Whatever, little brother. I can do this without you." Norway began digging around in a conveniently-placed red backpack, looking for anything useful to hurl at his Danish rival. There were lots of odd things in the backpack, from a big rolled-up piece of art paper, to a fake moustache. Still, none of them were particularly practical for throwing at someone. At last, he hit paydirt: A bag of tomatoes. Obviously, this backpack belonged to either Spain or Romano.

_This is going to be perfect... I hope Den starts crying or something, that would be make this even more hilarious._

The scheming Norwegian reached into the bag and pulled out one of the tomatoes, before quickly scouting out his target. Denmark was currently chatting with Netherlands and Belgium, so he would be completely caught off guard when the juicy red tomato hit him in the back of the head.

Norway took aim and flung his newfound weapon across the table towards Denmark. The tomato flew through the air in a graceful arc. It was a perfect shot. Unfortunately for Norway, at the very last second, someone moved into the path of the incoming fruit.

That someone happened to be a certain blond Frenchman. The tomato hit him hard just above the ear, splattering its insides onto his hair and dripping down onto his shirt.

France gasped, blue eyes sparking with indignation. "M-my hair! My beautiful hair!" He spun around, searching for the offender. Norway tried frantically to look casual, but Iceland, ever the supportive little brother, saw France's searching gaze and oh-so-subtly pointed at Norway. France, unfortunately, noticed, and angrily stomped over.

"You!" he cried, pointing dramatically at Norway. "How _dare_ you ruin my hair?!"

"S-sorry, France," Norway apologized awkwardly. "I didn't mean for that to hit you... I was actually aiming at Denmark, and-"

"'_Sorry_' does not fix my 'air, you... you _miscreant_!"

"Listen, I said I was sorry! It was an accident, really!"

"That doesn't matter! It's still... it's still a..." France's voice trailed off all of a sudden.

* * *

_**We repent for denying your liberty**_

_** But an ounce of prevention's a pound of cure**_

_** From now on, see the world's equality**_

_** Vanity, we declare, is gone for sure**_

_** Now you shall embrace perfect fraternity**_

_** Brothers, mankind shall be to you**_

_** Love's what you're known for, time to prove it**_

_** We pledge to make you follow through**_

* * *

France looked dazed for a second, then suddenly adopted a more submissive posture. "I do not know what came over me, _Norv__è__ge_. Please, forgive me."

"You're... asking _me_ to forgive _you_?" Norway had never been more confused.

"_Oui_. I should not have responded so angrily. It is nothing, really. _Pardon moi_ whilst I find a towel to clean off my hair. _Adieu_." With that, he walked off in the opposite direction.

"Uh..." Norway was at a complete loss for words.

"That's disappointing," Iceland said. "I was rather hoping he'd at least yell at you a little more."

"Some brother you are," Norway snapped.

"I'm not your brother."

"Yes you are. Don't deny it."

"Leave me alone, Norway..."

"Say it, Iceland..."

"I don't want to say it, okay?"

"Big brother..."

"Shut up..."

"Say it... Big brother... Big brother..."

"Leave me alone, or I'll throw this book at you."

* * *

As Germany walked through the busy meeting room, he began planning out how everything would go. First, he would let Canada apologize to England and Russia, so everyone could stop arguing over whose fault _that_ was. The two wronged nations would probably be angry at first, but Germany would simply calm them down and explain that there were more important things in life than holding grudges. The two of them would eventually see reason, and then they could all finally get to work.

Then, Germany would humbly take over for America, as Italy had suggested, and proceed to quell any fights or disagreements that might arise. Everyone would finally see how pleasant it felt to actually work together and be productive, and they would all realize just how much they'd been missing out on.

Everything would be just perfect. Germany would never acquiesce again. Italy would be very proud of him for not letting his frustration get the best of him anymore.

_Maybe today we can put all this fighting to rest..._

Wait... fighting. There was... supposed to be fighting. Where was all the fighting?

The distinct change in atmosphere finally resonated in his mind. No one looked angry or upset anymore. They weren't arguing, they weren't yelling... And, was that... Turkey and Greece shaking hands?!

Yes, he realized in shock, it was. And, from the look of it, England and Sweden and Finland were making amends over their disagreement earlier. Also, across the room, China and the other Asians were giving Japan a huge group hug, and Japan didn't look the least bit uncomfortable about the invasion of his personal space. In fact, he looked... happy.

_What's gotten into everyone?_

It was as if everyone had abruptly seen sense, and put aside their long-standing feuds for the sake of being friends.

As he looked around the room at all the smiling faces, and listened to the happy chatter, he felt something rise up in his chest that he knew he should not be feeling.

He felt upset. Offended, even.

He knew he shouldn't. He should be pleased at this extremely strange turn of events, but for some reason he just wasn't. He couldn't seem to make himself be glad that the world had spontaneously decided to cooperate.

His mind, of its own volition, jumped onto an odd tangent, one that brought on thoughts like '_How dare they start to get along before I could step in and _force_ them to get along?_' which made absolutely no sense, because he wasn't supposed to think like that anymore. He should be excited that everything was starting to settle down, even if it wasn't because of anything he'd done.

This... this was what he'd wanted, right? For everyone to get along, and work together, so they could get things done. This was good. Better than good. It was great.

Yes. Great.

"Germany, dude!" A loud and obnoxious voice caused him to look up from his conflicted thoughts. It was America, who was grinning like he'd just won a Nobel Prize or some other such honor. Not that America even knew what a Nobel Prize was, or how one would go about earning one.

America bounded across the room toward him, and flashed a pseudo-pleasant smile. "Hey there, Germany! How's it going?"

Germany, oddly torn between glowering and returning the smile, simply maintained his emotionless expression. "I am... as well as can be expected, I suppo-"

"Oh, that's good," America interrupted. "Now, I need your help with something really quick."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping for some tips on how to run the rest of the meeting, since you tend to be pretty good with that sort of that thing. I asked England, but I barely got through my question before he started apologizing for the 'taxation without representation' thing, and all that stuff..." He chuckled, a faraway look crossing his face. "Ah, good old Iggy..." And then, just like that, he was back to business. "So, tips! You got any?"

Germany couldn't help but feel a little offended. Not only was America expecting him to help him out from 'behind the scenes' as it were, America had also told him, _to his face_, that Germany wasn't his first choice for advice.

"Well, I-"

"Ooh, wait, dude, hold up for a sec, I think someone's texting me..." America pulled a fancy-looking phone out of his jacket pocket, and began rapidly pushing buttons. Germany rolled his eyes. After what was probably a minute or so later (though it felt to Germany like an eternity), America finally looked up from the device. "Okay, so you were saying?"

Germany barely refrained from giving an audible sigh. "America, may I ask your opinion on something?"

"Okay, shoot."

"Well, you see, something strange has been going on. Just a few minutes ago, everyone was at each others' throats, but... now they don't seem mad at all..."

"I know, isn't it great? I knew it would work! America, friend to society and hero of the world, saves the day again!"

Germany frowned, caught off-guard by the American's nonchalant reaction. "W-wait... You don't mean to say that this is all _your_ doing, do you?"

America grinned triumphantly, and, for some reason, Germany found it even more irritating than usual.

"Dude," the bespectacled blond declared ardently, "this is obviously all part of my incredibly heroic plan!"

Oh, no. No, no, _no_. America was _not_ actually going to try to take the credit for this bizarre turn of events.

"How exactly is this part of your 'plan', America? ...If I may ask?"

America looked a little unnerved for a second (Why exactly did that make Germany feel good?), but he almost immediately regained his confidence.

"Well, _duh_!" he exclaimed. "It's totally obvious that my brilliant and empowering speech gave everyone the motivation to work together!"

Germany barely kept himself from laughing. "America, I sincerely doubt that your so-called speech had anything to do with this."

"Wh-what do you mean, 'so-called'? It was a momentous speech!"

"It was a _stupid_ speech." The brusque, unkind thought that had been lurking deep in his mind for quite some time abruptly crystallized itself into words, and leaped off his tongue before he could stop it.

"Oh, you're just jealous that people responded better to my clever rhetoric than they ever do to your constant yelling and barking orders," America shot right back.

_J-jealous?_

The disdainful and degrading word stung, and yet, it hit home, more so than he wanted to admit.

But... he _couldn't_ be jealous. Jealousy was something that other people felt. Weaker, less grounded people. Not him. He had overcome that loathsome emotion long ago, and had fully embraced the perfect propriety of humbleness.

Hadn't he?

He shouldn't feel this way. Jealousy wasn't mature, nor was it particularly healthy...

Germany attempted to push the resentful feelings out of his mind. He would not be so childish as to let himself get upset over... over something so _trivial_... Because it _was_ trivial. He did not have to get credit for everything. Even if he was the one who put in all the effort day after day, even if he was the one who really wanted everything to go according to plan, even if all America had done was plagiarize a few of his leaders' speeches...

_It's not fair._

He instantly hated himself for letting himself think such a juvenile and selfish thing, but he simply couldn't help it. It... it _wasn't_ fair. America never did anything but come up with ridiculous ideas and proclaim them to the rest of the world at the top of his lungs. His heroism was all in his mind, just like England's good sense, and France's charm, and China's time-tested wisdom, and Prussia's 'awesomeness', and any other decent traits the personifications had ever claimed to possess. Deep down they were all nothing but hypocrites.

_And you think you're so much better than they are?_ his mind asked bluntly. _And here I thought we'd gotten over this..._

_I have,_ he thought firmly. _I know I'm not better than they are, I know that... but, sometimes it feels like they're not even trying, and yet they __still__ try to take undeserved credit when things start to go well..._

"Can't argue with results, can you?" America asked smugly.

Germany glared. "No, I suppose you can't," he spat. "And as for your earlier request, America, I'm _very_ sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you, as I'm extremely busy at the moment."

America, to Germany's disappointment, didn't look a bit perturbed. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come around eventually," he said with a knowing smile. "Well, I gotta go get prepared to restart the meeting! See ya!" He skipped off across the room, leaving Germany alone.

Well, nearly alone.

"Uh, Mr. Germany?" A very soft voice caught his attention. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I believe you said that the break will be over soon..."

Oh, right. Canada. Germany had nearly forgotten about him.

"Do you think you could maybe get everyone's attention for me?" Canada asked. "I'm just not loud enough, and I need someone that everyone else will listen to..."

Germany flinched. "Why don't you just go ask your wonderful brother _America_ for help?" he snapped, derision coating his voice. "I'm sure they'll listen to him, since he's such a _great_ orator, and the so-called, 'friend to society and hero of the world,' and all..."

"O-oh, I'm sorry, Germany," Canada said, looking flustered. "I really didn't mean to bother you, honest I didn't... Please don't be angry, eh... I won't trouble you anymore..." He turned to leave.

Germany felt a pang of guilt. He wasn't sure why he'd reacted like that. Canada hadn't been asking much. Nothing at all, really. He'd only wanted to apologize, make things right with Russia and England.

"Don't worry about it, Canada... It's not... I mean..." He sighed. "Look, there's a microphone over there, okay? You can use that. I just... need to be alone for a little while..."

He stiffly walked away from the Canadian nation, deliberately ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of his earlier intention to stay and make sure things didn't get too out of hand when Canada told everyone the truth. Germany couldn't make himself care about that anymore. He couldn't quite make himself care about _anything_ anymore.

* * *

Belarus gripped her knife tightly, dragging the blade across the table so it dug a deep line into the wood. She hated these meetings. Not only did Russia never pay any attention to her, but no one else seemed to, either. They all avoided her, shunned her.

She hated them all. They were selfish and loud, and yet they were still more favored in Russia's eyes than she was.

_If Russia succeeds in making everyone his friend, then I will be forever all alone, the only one he does not want... Why does he not want me? Why am I not good enough? I only want to make him happy, just like he used to make me happy..._

Belarus put more pressure on the knife, and made a rough curve, then another, so the shape was that of a heart. After a moment of thought, she dragged an even deeper line straight through it, severing the heart in half.

_Is there no one that does not hate me? Is there no one that is not terrified of me?_

* * *

_**Anger, sharp as a pointed knife**_

_** Conflict, cutting like the blade**_

_** Striking fear into the hearts of men**_

_** Even thy siblings feel afraid**_

_** But, fear no more, we'll intervene**_

_** A new woman thou art made**_

_** No harsh word shall 'scape thy lips**_

_** Jealousy, we command to fade**_

* * *

Italy quietly watched the other nations from his chair.

He no longer got the nervous feeling that he'd had earlier. The atmosphere had completely changed. No one seemed to be fighting anymore.

_Did... did my wish come true? Is that why they're all being nice now? Yay, I like it so much better when they get along instead of fight..._

And yet... something still didn't feel right. Italy didn't normally put much effort into analyzing things, (that was Germany's job,) but he could definitely tell that, beneath the surface of sudden happiness, there was a dark, creepy... _something_ lurking.

Italy didn't like dark, creepy somethings, even if they made everyone act nicer.

He wanted to find out this particular something was, since Grandpa Rome had always told him that scary things were less scary if you turned on the lights and figured out exactly what it was that was frightening you. You could then figure out whether it was best to run away, or if there was something you could do to make it better.

Taking a deep breath, Italy decided to do something that he almost never did.

He opened his eyes.

Things became a thousand times clearer, and a thousand times more bright. Italy blinked a few times, letting himself get used to it all. He didn't usually open his eyes all the way, but he had a feeling that he would need all the help he could get to figure out what was going on.

Italy could now see that Germany was pacing almost frantically in the corner, muttering what looked to be a full-blown madness mantra under his breath. The German was continually glancing around at the various nations, and seemed to be just as concerned as Italy due to the shift in the atmosphere. Italy was glad that he wasn't the only one, it was no fun being worried by yourself. Even if Germany looked almost a little _too_ worried.

A nation that looked a lot like America (_Canada_, open-eyed Italy reminded himself) was fiddling with a microphone and a rather complicated looking sound system. Italy considered going over to help him, but he doubted he would be of much help to Canada. Whenever Italy tried to fix things, he usually just ended up making them worse.

He looked over to his right and saw France wiping something red out of his hair. Italy panicked for a moment, before realizing that it had the consistency of tomato juice, not blood.

Speaking of tomatoes, Romano was nearby as well. He was trailing behind Spain, and he seemed to have something to say to nearly everyone he passed.

"You look nice today, _bastardo_. I like the tie. You too, _signorina_, that's a very pretty dress... _Signore_, I just want to say that I very much appreciate that you decided to match your shirt with your jacket today... Have I ever told you that I think you're really smart, _idiota_?"

Italy frowned. Romano wasn't normally so liberal with compliments. Sure, he'd been in a much better mood than usual yesterday, (it was the magic of pasta and love, Italy knew it,) but Romano had been right back to his grumpy self this morning...

"Italia-kun!"

Italy turned to see Japan. The North Italian personification quickly closed his eyes again, and put on his brightest smile. No use worrying Japan over nothing.

"~Ve, hi, Japan! How are you?"

"I am well, Italia-kun. I just... well..." Japan reached out and tentatively gave Italy a hug. "You are always so nice and cheerful around me, and I fear I do not express enough how happy I am that you are my friend. Such things do not come easily to me, but I am determined to become more comfortable with Western customs."

Japan wanted to be more comfortable with things like hugs and emotions? That certainly was strange. Japan got very nervous about touching people, and yet, here he was, hugging Italy without any distinct signs of wanting to pull away.

"~Ve, oh, Japan, I'm so happy..." Italy forced his voice up to its normal high register.

"I am glad. Please accept my apologies for any times I have seemed cold to you in the past."

"Don't worry about it, ~ve! You're my friend, and you'll always be my friend!"

"That makes me very happy, Italia-kun." Japan straightened up and offered a soft smile. "I believe I underestimated the benefits of friendship in the past, but now I can see that my friends and allies are what make me who I am, and I do not intend to forget that ever again."

Italy nodded, smiling broadly. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew that he had to be a good friend for Japan, because Japan needed a good friend right now. Investigating the world with open eyes could wait. He needed to put his concerns completely out of his mind, and face life with a happy Italian smile.

"~Ve! Do you want-a some pasta, Japan?"

* * *

America had a spring in his step as he went back to his chair. Everything was going just according to plan. The potion hadn't started working on Germany yet, but it would eventually, and his initial resistance would make victory even sweeter.

_This is gonna be great..._

"A-America?" a feminine voice asked from behind him. The accent was familiar, but the tone was not.

America turned around to see Belarus standing there, looking slightly nervous. "What do you want, Bela?" he asked pleasantly.

"I... just wanted to say..." She blushed. "Дзякуй, for helping me all those years ago... I truly appreciate it..."

"Aw, shucks, it was nothing," America replied. "Heroes are supposed to help out when they see a pretty damsel in distress," he commented teasingly.

"Y-yes... As I said, I'm... very grateful."

America could barely keep from laughing. Belarus never would have let him get away with saying such things normally. This potion thing was turning out to be more fun than even he could have foresaw.

Belarus held out her hands toward him, giving him a look of both discomfiture and expectation.

"What are you doing?" America asked.

Belarus looked uncomfortable. "In your country, friends... 'hug', do they not?"

America smiled. "Well... yeah, I guess they do."

"All right, then..." She gave him a somewhat stiff hug. "Please accept my sincere gratitude for your assistance."

If America hadn't known about the potion, he would probably have fainted out of shock. That is, after he ran off to a reasonably safe location out of range of Belarus' knife.

"You're very welcome, Belarus."

* * *

Germany was not fond of problems for which he could not immediately find an answer. He liked being able to assess situations and understand them easily. He did _not_ like when his diligently trained mind suddenly decided to fail him, as it seemed to be doing quite frequently today.

Another thing that Germany did not like was when it seemed that someone else in the room seemed to be more informed and prepared to face the present state of affairs than he himself was. _Especially_ when that person was America.

It was like a puzzle, with the pieces scattered all around. Everything he needed was right there before him, but it was too erratic and confusing to make any sense. The solution remained obstinately evasive, though something told him that, like his earlier dilemma concerning Canada's identity, this was a puzzle with a relatively simple answer.

_What possible reason could they all have to act this way?_

Germany knew that it couldn't possibly be because of America's speech, as the conceited superpower had suggested minutes earlier. No, America had nothing to do with this. It was something else, something that Germany had obviously never come across before.

That didn't mean he wouldn't figure it out, of course. He would find out what was going on, and who was really behind it. Then, he would decide what, if anything, needed to be done about it.

_Let's see... Whatever is going on, it's obviously being orchestrated by someone intelligent, and that someone also has to have access to extraordinary resources. That crosses out quite a few nations right from the..._

Without warning, the room suddenly seemed to shift out of balance, and his vision blurred. He silently cursed his recent chronic vertigo, wondering why it always seemed to strike at the most inopportune moments.

Only, the symptoms he was feeling weren't _quite_ like vertigo. They weren't exactly like a migraine either, though there were definite similarities to that as well. Germany tried desperately to ward off the feeling, but it grew stronger in spite of his fervent attempts. The headache, or whatever it was, left him dazed and surprisingly tired in a matter of seconds. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, infinitely relieved when his head began to clear a few moments later.

When he felt he could, he slowly reopened his eyes, and was again met with the room full of peculiarly-behaving nations, but this time from a slightly different perspective. As he once again searched for a common thread in their conduct, Germany was suddenly struck by a thought, or, at least, the early stages of one.

_What if...?_

But the strange migraine kept nagging at his brain, and the revelatory notion evaporated before it could become completely clear. The puzzle, which had for a moment nearly arranged itself into its proper formation, now lay a muddled mess in front of him once more, as the headache grew steadily stronger, stronger -

* * *

_**You made your friend a promise**_

_** That we expect you now to keep**_

_** Henceforth, lose the faculty**_

_** To look before you leap**_

_** Thou shalt ne'er more regret**_

_** A lack of timely intervention**_

_** Let your heart lead, not your brain**_

_** Banish prudent apprehension**_

* * *

"Um, hello, eh..." A very soft voice echoed through the meeting room with the help of a very high quality sound system.

Russia looked up from his attempt to arrange his new collection of thumbtacks into the shape of a sunflower. Who was this that was speaking now?

"My name is Canada, and I have something to say... I did something really mean this morning and... I want to apologize."

Oh, right, it was Canada. Russia knew him. Sweet boy, even if he was much too close to America.

"You see, I was the one who... who..." The voice got even softer. "..._putthumbtacksonRussia'schairearlier_..."

"What was that?" Denmark called loudly.

"I put thumbtacks on Russia's chair!" Canada cried, before wincing visibly. "There, I said it!"

Russia snapped his head up. _Canada_ was responsible for that? And he was normally so quiet, too... Ah, well, he wasn't the first person Russia would have wanted to punish, but it would have to do.

"That was you?!" Ukraine cried, sounding horrified.

"Yes, but I wasn't even trying to hurt Russia; I thought that that was England's chair! I was mad at England because of what he did to France, but I now know that I wasn't solving anything by trying to get back at him! I was stooping to his level, instead of trying to be the bigger person and forgive! Papa France forgave England, and I now see that I should have done the same. England, Russia... I'm so sorry..."

Russia slowly reached for his faucet pipe, which was conveniently stowed under the table. Part of him knew it wouldn't be right to hurt Canada, but... Canada had hurt him first, which made it fair.

* * *

**_Pain has been your only knowledge_**

**_For many long and bitter years_**

**_You felt the ache of loneliness_**

**_Cried many painful, bitter tears_**

**_But now we sense a change is nigh_**

**_Before striking out, think twice_**

**_You'll find your flowers and blue sky_**

**_Forgiveness, melt this heart of ice_**

* * *

It was done. The truth was out. Now all that was left was to wait for judgment.

Or, as Canada soon discovered, immediate and sincere forgiveness.

"Do not be upset, my little Canada," Russia said, as he walked over and gave the quivering Canadian nation a genuine hug. "You are more than forgiven."

"Yes, of course you are, love," England agreed. "And I'm sorry for forgetting you so often."

About fifteen other nations echoed their agreement. Canada flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, don't feel bad... I'm not angry at any of you... It's an innocent mistake."

"Well, it's not one that I intend to make again," England declared. "I think, to help everyone remember, we should have a '_Remember Canada Day_', just for you. How does that sound?"

"F-for me, eh? You would really do that? That's so thoughtful..."

"It's the least we can do," said Ukraine, who was back to her cheery yet insecure self.

England smiled, and put his arm around Canada. "From now on, today is officially 'Canada Day'."

"Actually," Canada whispered, "Canada Day is normally July 1st, but that's still really nice of you to want to do something nice for me, eh..."

Strangely enough, (well, strangely enough to everyone but America,) similar incidents were progressively occurring all over the room.

"...Norway... I actually do think of you as an older brother..."

"...Big brother Russia, I'm sorry for chasing you, I'm just so lonely sometimes..."

"...Spain, you may be an lazy, carefree idiot, but I think it's time we let bygones be bygones..."

"...Hey, Romania, I think it's silly that we're always fighting... Truce?"

"...Romano, eh, I want to apologize for holding deep, pent-up resentment towards you when you and your brother passed me in the hallway this morning and didn't notice me..."

"...Lithuania, I promise not to threaten you or break your fingers anymore..."

"...Potato b- I mean, _Germany_... I guess I don't... _really_ hate you... You're actually not that bad a guy, even if you are- a-ack... really intelligent and punctual and organized and- and- _grrr_..."

"...Denmark, I'm sorry for trying to strangle you yesterday... and the day before that... and the day before that..."

* * *

**Chapter Translations  
**

**Italian: **

**Signorina - Miss  
**

**Signore - Sir**

**Belarusian: **

**Дзякуй - Thank you  
**

* * *

**Gosh, I'm really living up to the Humor/Drama contradiction in the chapter... I can never seem to choose between them.  
**

**Just so you know, Italy's not going to be affected by the potion (check the sixth chapter, he never had anything to drink, just garlic toast that he brought from home). I thought I'd point that out, so there's no confusion.  
**

**I thought I'd list the nations who got poems, just so you know who all the poems are for. The last chapter had Canada, England and Romano in that order, along with a sort of 'World' poem at the very end (one or two people were confused about that). This chapter had France, Belarus, Germany and Russia. I promised Aylin Moon a France poem, so even though I didn't write anything from his POV, I still stuck his poem in there, right in between Norway's ponderings. A guest requested Russia, so I wrote one for him last minute. I actually think that one is my favorite...  
**

**On that note, thank you, reviewers! And favoriters, and alerters, and even those who don't do any of that but still read it and enjoy it. That's the reason I'm writing. I want to make people feel happy.  
**

**AR  
**


	10. Mission: Impossible

** Okay, it's been much longer than I originally planned. First, I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) during November, where you write fifty thousand words for a novel, all in one month. So for the majority of November I had no time to write fanfiction, since I was putting the majority of my effort into churning out 1667 words for my bizarre speculative fiction story, **_**every - single - day**_**. All while trying to keep up my grades, and score well in the college math class I was taking. Good news - I maintained my 4.0. Bad news - free writing suffered as a result.**

** Then came December. Halfway through the month, I finished Math 102. I then finally had time to dig up Chapter Ten of this story and begin slogging through it again. However, I was suddenly faced with a brand new problem.**

** Doomsday.**

** No, not really. I never believed those wacky, "The Mayans say the world is ending in 2012 so we're all gonna die," theories anyway. I'm actually referring to Christmas. I love the Christmas season, but it's hectic and busy, especially in my family. Please pardon the long delays - hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up sooner.**

** Also, in response to DeadNotSleeping, (yes, I got the reference,) I know there are far more suggestive musicals than Dr. Horrible. Still, since this is a K+ story, I don't like to endorse anything that isn't relatively family friendly, and, while Dr. Horrible is, for the most part, pretty tame, there are a few things in it that made me cringe (particularly some of Captain Hammer's lines). As a Christian, the last thing I want is to do or say anything that contradicts my faith, so I thought I would put a little warning, for safety's sake.**

** I don't really have a song for the whole chapter, but I will say this: Listen to the _Mission: Impossible_ theme during Prussia's scene down in the lobby. It makes the whole thing 20% awesomer.**

** Oh, and I don't own Hetalia. Just in case y'all were wondering.**

* * *

The plan was working, and America was on the edge of his seat with excitement. It was _working_, and even better than he could have envisioned.

Over the past hour, nations had pitched ideas, discussed them, agreed upon them, and generally been very productive. No arguments whatsoever. It was almost a little boring, but boredom was a definite improvement from complete anarchy.

Everyone was so busy putting out ideas on how they could help everyone else, America didn't have much time in the spotlight. That was okay, too, of course. He wasn't doing this for the spotlight. He was doing this because it was a heroic thing to do.

Then, around lunchtime, things took a slight turn for the worse.

"I think it isn't right that some countries have so much more money than others," Switzerland said all of a sudden. "I propose that we divide everything equally, so everyone has a fair share."

"Excellent idea," China said. "We should split up the money among all the nations. That way it will be fair."

America flinched at the direction the conversation was heading. "B-But that's like communism! We can't do that!"

"I think it sounds good. All in favor?" England asked.

"W-Wait a second," America said, hoping to stall the vote. "How much would each nation get, d'ya think?"

Switzerland punched some numbers into a handy calculator. "With my current estimates, each country should end up with... approximately 15.5 billion euros, give or take a few million."

America didn't want to try to convert that one in his head. "Can someone translate that to American money for me?"

"Just over twenty billion U.S. dollars," England said after a minute or so of furious calculations and conversions. "It's about twelve and a half million British pounds."

At the words 'twenty billion U.S. dollars', America's radar went up. To not only be out of debt, but to be above bankruptcy by twenty billion dollars…

But no. This was not capitalism. This particular 'ism' was the furthest thing from 'capital'. This was not how government was supposed to be run.

"Did you say… 20 billion dollars…?" America asked weakly, feeling as though someone had placed a delicious hamburger in front of him, but said that he couldn't eat it unless he renounced democracy.

"It sounds fair to me," England said. "It will be easier to maintain good diplomatic relations if everyone has the same amount of money. Then no one can be accused of using their funds to sway proper diplomacy."

"It's always good to share what you have with others," the normally stingy Austria agreed.

Sharing. Sharing was good, right? So was unhindered diplomacy. If money gave some people an unfair advantage over others, then why shouldn't everyone just have the same?

But… democracy… His precious capitalism, that had served him so well since his founding… It was what set him apart from the other nations, what made him a world superpower, what made him a _hero_…

Then again, his boss would be thrilled if America came home from the world conference saying he'd fixed the problem of the national debt. America might even get another national holiday. He loved national holidays. Everyone was so patriotic and happy, and there was always food involved…

Oh, why was it that crises of conscience always made him hungry?

* * *

Sealand was bored. After some security guard had yelled at him for trying some apparently disruptive tricks with his neon green, light-up yo-yo, he had been left with nothing to do.

"What do we do now, Hana?"

"Ruff!"

Sealand sighed. "Hotel lobbies are boring. Maybe I should walk around outside for a little while. I'm a nation, I can take care of myself." He stood and walked toward the big revolving glass doors. "Come on, Hana." The little white dog followed obediently.

It was a beautiful day outside, complete with bright sunshine illuminating the busy streets and shops. Lively chatter swirled through the air, melting into obscurity by the time it reached the young micronation's ears.

"It really is a great day to be seeing the city," Sealand commented. "Let's go, Hanatamago, we can do some exploring and be back before the meeting is over."

Sealand's excitement faltered when he realized that there were a lot of people out today. A lot of busy, rowdy people that weren't paying the least bit of attention to a small boy and an even smaller dog. Sealand had to be very careful not to run into anyone.

"Stay close, Hana," Sealand instructed. "I don't want you getting lost."

Sealand maneuvered through the sea of people, looking for something to hold his interest. He didn't have any money with him, so he couldn't buy anything, or pay to take a bus or taxi anywhere. Where ever he went, he was going to have to walk.

A taxi barreled down the street, horn blaring. Suddenly, to Sealand's shock, the back door flung open. A man's frantic voice pierced the air.

"…listen, I'm positive that was it! _Stoppen sie hier_! _Nein_, I want to get out!" The cab finally reached a jerky, but complete, stop, a few yards short of Sealand. "_Ja_, _danke_," the voice grumbled, not entirely sincere.

Sealand watched as a frazzled young man all but fell out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk, pulling a bulky blue backpack out with him. A little yellow bird flew out of the cab behind him, and flitted around the man's head, chirping sporadically. Obviously dazed, the man looked up at the hanging banner that heralded the name of the hotel.

"Yes, this is… right place, I am sure of it," the man muttered in broken, accented English. "Hotel Carson, the place of _diesjährigen_ World Conference." He stood, swaying slightly, then turned back around to face the taxi. He stooped to the level of the driver's window, resting his arm on the roof of the taxicab. "_Vielen dank_, Sir. You have been awesome, even with the mild language barrier and the fact that you're obviously part Italian. _Auf Wiedersehen_, and good luck on that promotion."

Had he said something about the World Conference? Why would he be looking for that? Only nations were invited to those.

Unless… this man was also a nation.

But Sealand didn't know of any nations who weren't already at the World Conference. Everyone had been present at roll call, except for Slovakia, who was supposedly in bed with a cold. Sealand had not yet met Slovakia, but he didn't think that this man was him.

This man… this man was unlike anyone Sealand had ever seen. He had very pale, very messy hair, with equally pale skin - how he kept from getting sunburned Sealand had no idea - and he was wearing what looked to be an old-fashioned military uniform (complete with feathered hat) that sort of looked like England's pirate outfit that he kept in the back of his closet, only this man's jacket was a very bold shade of blue.

The taxi drove off, and the pale man in blue straightened up. He proclaimed something rather loudly and enthusiastically in his native tongue. The only words Sealand could catch (and then attempt to translate) were 'yes', 'good' and 'car'.

The man had a certain presence about him that lent itself to authority, and something else, too… something that reinforced Sealand's belief that this man was a nation.

But no, not quite. This man had a different sort of natural atmosphere, one that reminded Sealand of the feeling he got when he saw Wy, or one of the other micronations.

Hmm…

Wait a second. What if this man was an 'almost-nation', like Sealand and his friends? Yes, he had to be!

"Hey! Mister!" Sealand ran up to the man. "Hey there!"

The pale man turned to face him, expression disoriented and confused. "What do you want?" he asked, deliberately reverting to rough English.

"I… um… I'm the Principality of Sealand, and I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?" Now that Sealand was closer, he was positive that the man was, like him, a not-quite-nation. The pale man's eyes were ruby red, gleaming with an effervescence that simply could not be human.

The man gave him a long look, before whispering, "Look, kid, I dunno who you are or what you're after, but I'm sort of in a rush. No time for chit-chat."

Sealand stifled a gasp - this man had spoken to him in the shared nation tongue! That meant that, not only was this man at least part nation, he had recognized Sealand as a nation too! This was great!

The man shifted the backpack onto his left shoulder. "See, I have to give some papers to the Czech Republic, and then get out of the hotel - and possibly the country - before my brother really does decide to kill me."

Czech Republic. She was a nation too, which only confirmed Sealand's theory.

"I promise I won't take very much of your time. Like I said, I'm Sealand, and I'm an aspiring country!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean by 'aspiring'?"

"Well, most of the countries refuse to recognize me as an official nation. They say I'm too weak and insignificant, or that I really shouldn't exist at all."

"Hey, been there, done that, kid. You're preaching to the choir on that one."

"You mean, you're an aspiring nation too?" Sealand felt a burst of hope.

"Eh, sort of, but it's really more like _ex_-nation if you want to get technical. I went through dissolution back in the forties, so I'm technically not supposed to even exist anymore, but I'm apparently so awesome the world couldn't bear to lose me."

"Whoa… You survived dissolution?" Sealand was amazed. Even if he wasn't quite sure what dissolution was. It sounded painful, though.

"I did indeed. I'm the awesome - and indestructible - kingdom of Prussia. You're looking at a certified one-of-a-kind pureblood Prussian. There is no one in the entire world quite as amazing as me."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prussia." Sealand eagerly shook the ex-nation's hand.

"Yeah, yeah, the pleasure's all yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to find the meeting room and get inside without being stopped by some skeptical security guard."

"I can help you with that!" Sealand volunteered.

"Oh, can you?" For the first time, Prussia looked genuinely interested.

"Certainly! I just came from the meeting, I know right where it's being held!"

"Awesome. Lead the way, kid."

And so, a boy, a man, a dog and a bird all entered the Hotel Carson together. Hana yapped at the bird whenever it tried to land on her head, but other than that the four seemed to get along well. Sealand was fascinated by the yellow bird - _'Gilbird'_, Prussia called it - and it turned out that Prussia was by no means immune to Hanatamago's powers of adorability.

"Aw, she's so _cute_… I-I mean awesome. It's an awesome dog you have there. Yeah."

Actually, it was turning out to be an okay day for Sealand. Just when he thought he had no friends left, he made a new one. Two, if you counted Gilbird.

"The meeting is upstairs," Sealand told Prussia. "We can take the stairs or the elevator, whichever you want."

"Wait a second. First, I want a little explanation. What were you doing outside on the street instead of in the meeting? Did Slovakia call and say I was coming?"

"Well, actually, to be honest… I was kicked out of the meeting," Sealand admitted sheepishly, hoping he wouldn't ruin his credit with the Prussian man.

Prussia's eyes lit up. "Really? What did you do? How bad was it? Was anyone hospitalized? Did it involve setting anything on fire? Did you get it on camera?"

"Wh-What? No, it was nothing like that. I wasn't trying to make anyone mad, they just made me leave because Hanatamago escaped and knocked over one of Jerk England's tacky vases."

Prussia scoffed. "That's all? You didn't actually do anything on purpose?"

Sealand shook his head.

"You didn't make a scene? You didn't get to be dragged out kicking and screaming?" Prussia actually looked disappointed.

"No, I just had to come down here because England was really mad at me, and Sweden and Finland didn't think it was a good idea for me to stick around."

"Oh." Prussia looked relatively sympathetic. "Well, that kind of sucks. It doesn't seem fair that they'd make you leave when you didn't actually try to do anything wrong."

"No kidding," Sealand whispered. "This was my first World Conference, and I didn't even get to do anything. Everyone just argued for the longest time over who had put thumbtacks on Russia's chair. We only got through roll call before I got sent down here about an hour ago."

"Only roll call? That's _all_? Wow, those guys have serious issues when it comes to being productive." He paused. "Wait, did you say someone put thumbtacks on Russia's chair? Gosh, I wish I could have seen _that_."

Sealand nodded. "Yeah, it was kind of funny, I guess... I felt sort of bad for Russia though, it looked like it hurt a lot."

"Uh, no. I don't think anything can hurt that guy. Have you _seen_ him? He's a frickin' giant!"

"I'm not scared of him," Sealand said, eager to impress. "My friend Latvia is, but I stand up for him when he caves under pressure."

Prussia smiled. "You know, I like you, kid. You've got spunk. How would you like to join my awesome team?"

Sealand frowned, and raised a very British eyebrow. "You have a team?"

"Uh, well... at the moment, it's kind of just me and Gilbird, but I'm actively recruiting new members! It's not very often that I come across anyone who measures up to my awesome standards, but you've definitely got what it takes."

"You really think so?"

"I _know_ so. Now, are you in?"

Sealand grinned. "Principality of Sealand, reporting for duty, Sir!"

* * *

Italy wasn't sure what was going on. He didn't think he liked it, though. No one else seemed to notice the strangeness, not even Germany or Japan. Italy was alone in his anxiety.

Italy did not like being alone.

He felt like crying, which was what he usually did when he felt nervous or alone, but he knew that wouldn't help. He just had to wait out this day, and tomorrow everything would be fine. It had to be. It always was. That was how he made it through everything - promising himself that tomorrow would be better. Even if he knew it wouldn't be.

Right now, the other nations were discussing some plan to divide up all the money in the world. Italy wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked sharing what he had, but this just felt weird. It was one thing to divide up pasta so everyone got an equal share, but money?

Just then, Russia stood up. "I have something to say, if that is all right with everyone else."

"Go right ahead," Germany said.

"I do not think that we should share just money," Russia pronounced evenly. "Many wars have been fought over land. Why should some nations have so little land when others have much? We should divide the land equally, too."

There were murmurs of agreement across the room. Switzerland started making more calculations. America urgently whispered something in England's ear. The Englishman began typing figures into his computer. When he finished, he whispered something back to America. The American gave a horrified shriek.

"What do you mean, all I'll have left is Texas and West Virginia?!"

* * *

_This kid is pretty cool,_ Prussia thought to himself. Prussia hadn't yet given him the distinction of awesome - such honors had to be earned - but it certainly wasn't out of the question for the semi-distant future.

"You know, Sealand, you remind me a little of West when he was a kid. Only, you're not as scarily antisocial as he was."

Sealand frowned. "Who's West?"

"My not-so-little brother. Most people call him Germany, though."

"You're _Germany's_ big brother?" Sealand gaped in astonishment.

"I am indeed. I taught him everything he knows. Well, except for the lameness and the affinity for detail. He picked that stuff up on his own."

"Wow… I can't believe you're really Germany's brother… Do you two get along?"

Prussia forced a laugh. "Aw, sure, we're close as can be…" It was mostly true. If you ignored the halfhearted death threats and the frequent verbal sparring matches, the two were practically inseparable. Prussia loved his brother to death (sometimes almost literally), but he did wish that West would lighten up every once in a while. West was so _uptight_ sometimes; it nearly drove Prussia up the wall.

"My big brother's a jerk," Sealand said offhandedly.

"He is? Who is he; do I know him?"

"It's England."

Prussia suppressed a chuckle. "Ah. I see."

"He won't recognize me as a country, and whenever I'm at his house he makes me do whatever he says! Like, I have to have good manners and everything!"

"I know, right?" Prussia agreed. West was exactly the same way. _'Be polite, Prussia. Be home by curfew, Prussia. Wash behind your ears, Prussia. Blah, blah, blah.'_ Prussia hated it. "It sucks when someone is always bossing you around like you're a little kid."

Sealand nodded eagerly. "Yes! All his rules drive me crazy! I can't stand it sometimes!"

"Neither can I! And he acts like he couldn't care less about you most of the time, but when he leaves you alone he just _has_ to make a list of rules and regulations to completely govern your existence, because, _'I want you to be safe, Prussia'_," he said, rolling his eyes and making quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Yeah, right."

"It doesn't make any sense," Sealand said. "It's like he wants to be my brother and order me around, but he's too ashamed of me to actually treat me fairly."

"Yes! A-And does he pull the _'my house, my rules'_ card on you?"

"All the time! If I'm watching TV at his house, and something good is on, he'll come in during the most exciting part and _change the station_, so he can watch something boring, like the news!"

Prussia had just found a new venting buddy, and boy, did it feel awesome to rant about West to someone who understood. "And he'll yell at you for eating too much junk food, even though he's the one who didn't take the time to cook anything edible!"

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Sealand cried. "We always have to have what _he_ wants to eat, which, by the way, is usually disgusting. But if I try to pour something else on it, to cover the taste, he yells at me!"

"Exactly!" Prussia cried. "And he won't even let you put maple syrup on wurst!"

Sealand blinked. "What?"

"Uh, nothing…"

There was a long silence.

"Did you want me to show you the meeting room?"

"Oh, right," Prussia said. He'd almost forgotten about that.

The two meandered through the hotel lobby, and were almost to the elevator, when-

"May I _help_ you?" It was a prim, tight-lipped woman in a spiffy hotel uniform. Her nametag read _'Cheryl - Hotel Manager'_. She didn't sound particularly eager to help at all.

"Uh, no thank you, we are just heading up to the annual World Conference," Prussia said. "No biggie, we'll find it ourselves, but, _danke trotzdem_."

"Do you have authorization to enter the Conference?" The woman seemed suspicious of him. Prussia wondered why - she couldn't possibly know about Operation Scone Elimination, he had worn a ski mask! Unless, of course, his awesome reputation was so widespread that she'd heard of some of his other, more home-based escapades.

"I do!" Sealand piped up. "I'm just bringing my friend upstairs for a few minutes. We'll leave right after that."

"I don't think so," the woman said, taking both Prussia and Sealand by the wrist and pulling them over to the sign-in desk. "I want both of your names, and your reason for being here."

Prussia rolled his eyes. How he despised red tape. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, _ma'am_." He put a bit of sarcasm into the last word. "I am here to deliver important papers to the personification of the Czech Republic."

"I'm Peter," Sealand said. He fished in the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a yo-yo, a key and a bit of lint. "I've got my conference card in here somewhere…" He trailed off. "Oh, wait, Fin and Sve took it so it wouldn't get lost… Whoops."

Okay, so that was out. Prussia racked his brain for any immediate leverage. He remembered how awed Sealand had been when Prussia mentioned his relation to Germany. Being a brother figure to the uncharismatic blond was not very high on Prussia's list of bragging points, but if it got him upstairs…

"Lady, I'm _Germany's_ older brother! That's got to count for something, right?"

The manager looked at Prussia over the top of her glasses. "I spoke with the personification of Germany in person when he arrived this morning, and I can say with utmost certainty that you do not look at all like him."

"Well..." Prussia considered this. "No, admittedly, I don't. But that doesn't mean we're not siblings! I'm just as good as his big brother, I raised him from childhood! Call up to the meeting room and ask him, he'll..." Prussia trailed off. He wasn't sure he wanted Germany to know Prussia was here just yet. He would rather dash in, make a brief commotion, give Czech her papers, and dash out. If he was fast enough, he might even manage to avoid Germany's all-seeing eyes (and, more importantly, his all-bruising fists) entirely.

"He'll _what_?" the woman asked suspiciously.

"On second thought... You might want to hold on that call..."

"I see…"

Suddenly, Prussia was struck with an idea. He looked down at Sealand, who, Prussia realized for the first time, was the spitting image of a tiny England. "Sea, you said you were England's little bro, right?"

"Unfortunately," Sealand replied.

"All right then!" Without warning, Prussia picked up Sealand and set him on the desk. "Here, my dear manager lady! I have England's little brother, and he demands to go upstairs and see his older sibling!"

Sealand looked confused, but played along, making his voice appropriately childish and pathetic. "Um... right! I really want to see my big brother Engwand, Miss Manager... Pwease, can I go see him...?"

The manager frowned. "Well... I'll admit, he certainly _looks_ like Mr. England... But... what country does he represent, exactly?"

"He is the Principality of Sealand!" Prussia declared. "England left him in my capable hands this morning, but the boy was just positively heartbroken - having to be separated from his brother, you know how it is - so I brought him here!" He forced a quasi-sincere smile.

She didn't look convinced. "Sir, I would advise you to spare yourself any further embarrassment and leave before I call security."

Shoot. Was there no way to convince this woman that he was on the level?

Prussia brought out the pleading doe eyes that he normally reserved only for West. "Please, Miss… Could you just do a poor guy a favor?"

The hotel manager huffed. "The Hotel Carson does not make a habit of doing favors for German punks, _Sir_."

Prussia bristled up in self-righteous indignation. "H-Hey, I'm not a punk! I was born looking like this, thank you very much!"

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding more scornful than apologetic.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Prussia grumbled. "And I'm not German, either, for your information. I'm Prussian. More specifically, I'm the _personification_ of Prussia."

The woman looked genuinely confused. "Prussia? Where's that?"

Prussia deflated instantly. Every time someone showed that they didn't know who he was, he suddenly felt tired, like his energy was zapped by the very fact that they didn't believe in his existence.

"Well, I'm... not technically a country anymore. But I _was_ a country, up until 1949!"

"Sir, if you aren't a country, then I cannot admit you to the meeting. I have strict orders from England not to let anyone inside who isn't on the list of invited nations."

Prussia stood up to his full height. "Well then, you leave me no choice!" He unsheathed his rapier. "_En garde_!"

The woman looked appalled, maybe even a little frightened. "Is that a sword?"

Prussia glanced down at the sharp blade. Probably too long for him to try to pass it off as a letter opener. "…Maybe?"

"I cannot allow you to have that while on the premises." She held out her hand, probably expecting him to hand it to her.

Heh. As if.

The woman then narrowed her eyes at Gilbird. "We also have a 'No birds' policy, sir."

Prussia put his hands on his hips. "Wait, you let Sealand bring in his dog, but I can't take my little bird?"

The woman peered over the desk, eyes narrowing. "Dog?"

Oh, crap.

Sealand tried to hide Hana by standing in front of her, but it didn't work.

"I'm calling security," she said, picking up the phone. "I don't even want to count how many statute violations there are between the two of you."

Prussia, realizing that negotiations were useless at this point, channeled his inner strategist. He pretended that this was the Franco-Prussian war, the boy beside him was an uncharacteristically loquacious West, and the scowling lady was the French army.

No, France wasn't scary enough. Try Russia.

"For _Königsberg_!" Prussia cried. Hopefully this would confuse the woman long enough for Prussia to think of a plan.

Then, he saw it. A key-like thing, sitting on the manager's side of the desk.

There was a piece of white tape on the top, with two words, scrawled in hasty blue pen ink.

_Elevator key_.

Perfect…

"Sorry, Miss, but I need to borrow this for a second." Prussia leaned over and snatched the key with expert precision. "Important nation stuff, you understand." He grabbed Sealand by the hand and yanked him toward the elevator.

"W-Wait! Come back here! You can't take that!" She looked angry, to say the least. Prussia wished he had a camera handy, just so he could take a picture of her face.

As he sprinted across the lobby with Sealand, Gilbird and Hanatamago in tow, Prussia started to laugh. _This_ was what he called fun. And he hadn't even broken any of West's pointless rules! Well, except for the _'Don't do anything to get yourself arrested'_, one, but technically, he would only get arrested if he got caught, right?

Don't get caught. That was Prussia's main objective. Second, and only slightly less important, was _'Get into the elevator before the door closes'_.

"Let's go, Sealand! We have a mission to carry out!"

"Right-o!" Sealand cried. "Atta girl, Hana, this way!"

The next ten seconds went by in a blur. Coherent thoughts were all but nonexistent until Prussia and Sealand were both safely on the elevator, with the doors closed. Hana was squirming in Sealand's arms, and Gilbird was flying around and around the small, boxy space, tweeting persistently.

"Man, that was a close one," Prussia said when he could breathe again. He honestly hadn't had this much fun in years. "Now, why couldn't I have gotten _you_ for a little brother?" he asked, putting his arm around the smaller personification. Germany got hives at the mere mention of adventure.

"You know… I do have an elevator key," Sealand said softly. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up for Prussia to see. "How do you think I got down to the lobby?"

Prussia felt like banging his head against the wall of the elevator. "Oh. Well, tell me that next time, _before_ I decide to steal one from a temperamental hotel manager."

"Sorry. I didn't know you were going to take hers."

"No problem. It's cool. I'll just give her the key right back once we're done. No harm, no foul, right?"

"I guess not…"

The elevator doors slid open at the fifth floor.

Sealand pointed down the hall towards a set of double doors. "The conference room is this way."

"That way? Okay, let's do this thing."

"Wait!" Sealand cried. "I… really don't want Hana escaping again. England would get even more angry at me."

"Well, I can take care of that for you…" Prussia fished around in his backpack, until his hand closed around a piece of sturdy rope. He took the rope, unwound it, and slid it through the buckle on Hanatamago's collar, tying it in a knot.

"There!" Prussia beamed. "Instant leash!"

"Ruff!" Hana barked, in what Prussia assumed to be a show of approval.

"Good girl." Prussia turned to Sealand. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent!" Prussia flashed a charismatic grin. "Come on, kiddo, let's go give those dreary losers something to talk about for _years_ to come."

This was going to be awesome.

* * *

- Translations -

German

_Stoppen sie hier_ - Stop here

_Diesjährigen_ - This year's

_Vielen Dank_ - Thank you very much

_Danke trotzdem_ - Thanks anyway

* * *

**Ah, the plot thickens… (I've always wanted to say that.)**

** What America fails to realize is that the twenty billion dollars is a percentage of **_**all**_** the money in the world, including the money his own citizens already possess. America would have to give up all that money, before getting the twenty billion dollars in return. Given that the American population is over three hundred million people****, ****each person would then have, to their name, about 65 dollars, give or take. And that's leaving the gaping national debt completely untouched. So yeah, not seeing any new national holidays in your future, America.**

**The land bit took a while to calculate. There's about 57,506,000 square miles of land on earth (not all of it is inhabitable), and there are a little less than 200 countries in the world. So, each country gets a little more than 290,000 square miles. America is 3,794,000 square miles, so that deal is _really_ bad for him.  
**

** Why is Prussia dressed in his old military uniform, you ask? For effect, naturally. One does not simply burst into the World Conference wearing grungy sweatpants and a beer-stained t-shirt. Admittedly, the sword may have been a bit much. Did he really think they would let him through security with that thing?**

**My personal headcanon is that there must be some sort of special language that personifications use when speaking to each other, because there is no way that they all just happen to speak English (or Japanese, for that matter). Not to mention, there would be major translation issues during meetings if they didn't have a language they all knew.  
**

** The city of Königsberg was the capital of Prussia up until 1701, when the official capital was moved to Berlin. During WWII, Königsberg was taken by the Russians, and is now called Kaliningrad.**

** On a completely different note, what do you all think of a chapter (or even just part of a chapter) from Hana's and/or Gilbird's point of view at some point? Just to change it up a little. Review and tell me what you think. Also, feel free to give your opinion of this chapter. Did I do okay? Anything I could improve on? Any grammatical errors? Translation mistakes? I know I probably don't catch everything grammar-wise, and my German is still far from perfect.**

** Merry Christmas, everyone! May all God's blessings be on you this holiday season!**


	11. Freaking Me Out

The song for this chapter is 'Freaking Me Out' by Simple Plan. I think it sums up this chapter pretty well.

* * *

"Shh, Hana. Not so loud," Sealand whispered. The dog was getting restless as Prussia paced back and forth outside the conference room doors, trying to compose his opening speech. Sealand had no idea why it was so important to have an oration of any kind prepared, since they were only delivering papers to Czech Republic, but Sealand was sure Prussia knew what he was doing.

Prussia stopped short mid-pace. "Okay, I think I've got it. Are you ready, Little Awesome?"

"Yes, sir!"

"All right, on the count of three... _Eins_, _zwei_, _drei_!" Prussia flung open the meeting room doors and struck a dramatic pose. "Okay, listen up, losers! You can all stop whatever you're doing and kneel before us, because the Awesome Prussia and his new ally Sealand have arrived to turn your silly little meeting upside-down!"

A few people looked up from the intense discussion going on at the meeting table, but otherwise no one seemed terribly perturbed at the sight of an albino in full military dress and a small boy in a sailor suit. After a moment, they returned to their discussion.

Sensing Prussia's disappointment, Sealand cried, "That's right!" hoping to attract at least _some_ attention. "It's Prussia and Sealand, the most awesome team ever! Kneel, or risk being conquered and added to our magnificent empire!"

Prussia cackled gleefully, his optimism restored. "Good gravy, kid, you sure you've never done this before? You're a natural!"

"Jerk England says I've got a knack for rubbing people the wrong way," Sealand said.

"You certainly do," Prussia replied. "Now, as much fun as this is, before we can get into all the awesome conquering stuff, I need to find Czech real quick. Otherwise, Slovakia will have my hide. I promised him I'd give her the papers she needed for her speech." He began scanning the room for the personification of the Czech Republic.

"Is that her?" Sealand asked, pointing to a brunette woman who was quickly approaching them.

Prussia turned. "Huh? No, that's-" His eyes widened. "Oh, man, I forgot all about her… Quick, Mini-Awesome, hide me!"

Sealand frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It's Hungary! Blast it, she's even worse than West when she's mad!" Prussia cowered behind Sealand.

"Prussia!" Hungary cried, smiling broadly. "It's such a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

Instead of looking relieved, as Sealand had assumed he would be, Prussia managed to look even more terrified. Any color that his face had originally possessed slowly drained away.

"She's going to kill me," Prussia whimpered in a voice that was a far cry from the arrogant, brash tone he'd used ever since Sealand had met him. "Don't listen to anything she says. She may sound sweet, but she's a killer with that frying pan!"

"Frying pan?" Sealand was impossibly confused. This woman didn't seem all that intimidating. She was wearing a very pretty blue dress, and had a flower in her hair. There was no frying pan to be seen.

"What's wrong, Prussia?" Hungary asked, without a trace of guile in her words.

"Keep your kitchen utensil of doom away from me!" Prussia shouted, regaining a bit of his confidence. "I'm here on official business, thank you, so there's no reason to come any closer! I have a speech to deliver to Czech Republic!"

"Oh, well then, follow me," Hungary said brightly. "Did Slovakia send you? It's so nice of you to help him out; I hear he has a nasty cold."

Once Prussia regained his composure, he trailed after Hungary and Sealand. "She's plotting something," he whispered to Sealand. "Don't let your guard down."

"Um… okay?"

"Nations have to be smart," Prussia continued under his breath. "Almost everyone in here has a practiced poker face. Take Russia, for instance. He can smile at you while thinking about how much he hates your guts. He's typically pretty creepy when he does it, though, so you have a heads-up in that case, but other people are more subtle."

Sealand made a mental note of this. He had already been aware of several nations' ability to hide their feelings under the guise of something different (Jerk England could actually be a perfect gentleman when he was around his leaders), but he had no idea it was so widespread.

"All nations are like that?" Sealand asked.

"Pretty much. You learn to play the game as time goes on. Never let the enemy know that you're dying to punch them in the face. Smile, and wave, and think happy thoughts about their future demise. Above all, Mini-Awesome, don't get taken in by the happy, bustling atmosphere of collective cooperation; I'm sure it's all just a-" Prussia froze, and looked around the room. "Hey… Wait a second, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody's yelling! Nobody's throwing things! Nobody's harping on cultural differences! There actually _is_ a happy, bustling atmosphere of collective cooperation! Hold up - is Greece actually awake? What are they up to?"

Sealand had to admit that his new friend had a point. "Things do seem a lot quieter," he mused. Everyone was gathered around the table, discussing something in soft tones. No one looked upset or angry.

"Yeah, and I don't like it," said Prussia. "Somebody took a hostage, I just know it. Why else would everyone be sitting still and using their inside voices?"

"A hostage?" Sealand felt a pit forming in his stomach. "Should we do something about it?"

"Perhaps, perhaps. But first I need to come up with a foolproof plan."

Another woman, this one wearing a neatly pressed business suit, walked up to them. "Elizabeta said you have my speech for me?" she asked Prussia.

"Show me your ID," Prussia demanded, crimson eyes blazing with suspicion. "I'm not taking any chances."

"Gilbert, you know me," the woman said with a giggle. "We practically live next door to each other." The woman, apparently Czech Republic, reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. "But, all right, if you insist…" She took out a driver's license and held it up for inspection.

"Okay," Prussia said once he was convinced. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a sheaf of papers held together with a heavy-duty paper clip. "Here you go."

Czech read the title of the speech, and her brow furrowed. "Oh, dear. Dear me. I'd completely forgotten."

"What?" Prussia asked. "What is it?"

"I can't give this speech. It's practically an appeal for money. So selfish. I don't know _what_ I was thinking when I wrote this."

"You were… thinking you'd like some more money?" Prussia suggested. "Nothing wrong with that, in my opinion. I practically _invented_ the monetary appeal. I use it on West all the time."

Czech Republic ignored him, and continued murmuring distressed worries to herself.

Prussia sighed. "Well, mission accomplished, I guess," he said to Sealand. "I was hoping the meeting would be close to a riot already, so we could stir everything up a little, but I guess everyone took a chill pill today."

"Chill pill?" Sealand had never heard of one of those. "Is that like a sedative?"

"Figure of speech. I just mean that everyone seems really calm. There's no actual medication involved."

"Oh." That made more sense. It didn't really explain what was going on, though.

Sealand knelt down to Hanatamago's level and scratched the puppy's head.

"What do you think happened, Hana? What did we miss?"

"Ruff!"

The boy and his dog walked down the row of chairs, listening carefully to the conversation going on. Everyone was very calm, and people seemed almost too eager to cooperate.

The only one who was not actively participating was America. He was seated at the far end of the table, with his head in his hands.

Sealand smiled warmly. "Hi, Mister America."

"…can't believe it, how did it all go so wrong? What have I done? This is a complete disaster, good grief, what have I _done_? Oh no, oh no, oh no… I'm never going to hear the end of it from my boss, and everyone _else's_ bosses too, oh man, this is horrible, please say it's just a dream, I don't know what I'm going to do, God help me, _what have I done_?"

"Um… Bye, Mister America?"

* * *

Prussia was extremely disappointed. No, make that disgruntled, or even straight-up miffed. He'd come all this way, wasting almost an entire day on delivering a speech that Czech wasn't even sure she was going to use, and, to top it all off, no one had yelled at him for making a scene, so he had no reason to _continue_ making a scene.

"Whatever happened to Hungary?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else. "Normally she's hanging all over me and telling me to shove off before she hits me with her frying pan. And where's the prissy aristocrat, and my _bruder_? There is no way I came all the way out here just to be ignored by anyone and everyone-"

"Ah, _Preußen_!" A voice broke into his thoughts. "What a surprise!"

"_Ja_, surprise, surprise! Again, with the surprises! Why is my presence such a _shock_ to everyone?" Prussia griped. "I'm here to deliver a speech, cause mayhem, and chill with my little brother. _Why_ is that surprising?"

He would have continued his diatribe, but he made the thoughtless decision to turn around and see who was speaking to him. He was faced with a sight he never would have expected.

Austria. The prissy aristocrat mentioned in Prussia's previous rant just half a minute before. And the man had a smile on his face. A bright, sickening, _genuine_ smile.

Prussia looked around for his new little friend, Sealand, but the micronation was currently caught in a vise-grip hug courtesy of England of all people. The sight was confusing and would have warranted more thought if the anomaly of a _happy_ Austria hadn't taken first priority.

"What do you want, stupid Austria? Has my awesomeness finally made a dent in your thick skull?"

"I just thought I would say hello to my old friend, that's all."

Prussia glanced around. "Old friend? Where? By all means, go bug him instead."

Austria laughed. The sound was as displeasing to the ear as fingernails on a chalkboard.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Prussia. I was referring to you, naturally."

"Uh, come again?" Prussia snorted. "Since when are we friends?"

"I've always considered you a friend, Prussia."

"No. Not friend. Rival. _Mortal enemy._ Austria, we hate each other! Or, at least, _I_ hate _you_."

"Oh, Prussia, hate is such a strong word," Hungary said, having appeared almost out of nowhere behind him. Prussia winced.

"Hungary, I told you to stay away from me! I hate you just as much as I hate your piano-freak husband! Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you people today?"

Suddenly, it clicked. It all made sense now… They were playing a prank, they had to be.

"Wait, did Slovakia put you guys up to this?" Prussia asked. "Did he tell you I was coming? Seriously, you're all major jerks for doing this, but you can't pull one over on me, no siree. I see right through your little ploy!"

Austria was doing a surprisingly good job of looking like he had no idea what Prussia was talking about, but Prussia knew better. Austria might not be smart enough to come up with this on his own, but _Hungary_… Hungary could easily have concocted this entire thing.

"Do not be upset," the aforementioned devious woman said, patting Prussia on the shoulder. "Whatever is the matter, Austria and I are here to help. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yes, of course," Austria replied, without a trace of sarcasm. "What can we do for you, Prussia?"

"_Nein_, that's all wrong!" Prussia exclaimed, suddenly eager to hear some yelling and feel a painful smack to the head. "Austria, you should be insanely jealous that Hungary's comforting me! And you!" He turned to Hungary, and noticed the blessed presence of a metal cooking tool in her hand. "_You_ have a frying pan! You should be using it!"

"Oh, are you hungry, Prussia?" the green-eyed Hungarian asked innocently. "I can make you some lunch, if you'd like..."

"I don't mean for cooking! I mean the incredibly efficient pain-inflicting function you've perfected over the years!"

"P-Pardon?"

"Like this!" Prussia cried. He yanked the frying pan out of her hands, and used it to strike the back of his head, in a spot-on demonstration of what he wanted Hungary to do. Unfortunately, he underestimated his own awesome strength, and the force of the blow was enough to make him wince in pain. "Ow… That actually… kind of hurt…"

"Oh, poor Prussia," Hungary cooed, putting her arms around him. "We should get you some ice for that… Someone go and get Prussia an icepack, please!"

About five different people volunteered at once, including Austria, who still didn't look the least bit upset that Hungary was fawning over Prussia instead of him.

"My world no longer makes sense!" Prussia cried. Hungary and the aristocrat were actually being _nice_ to him, which meant that this was either a really nice dream, or a really sick joke. "Please, I need someone who still has their head on straight!"

And then, as if summoned by Prussia's desperate cry, came a rough, familiar voice:

"_Bruder_? _Was ist los_?"

West.

The average level of unawesomeness in the room was instantly decreased by at least two points (not that Prussia wasn't able to maintain a satisfactory level of cool all on his own).

Accompanied by a reassuring hand on Prussia's shoulder came: "Are you all right, East? Please, calm down."

"West!" Prussia cried, as hope rose up in his chest once more. "Oh, thank goodness. You of all people have gotta be hating me right now. Please, tell me _you_ still hate me."

"Hate you? East, what are you talking about? I've never hated-"

"No time!" Prussia interjected. "Bro, I think everyone else is playing a really nasty prank on me, and it's driving me nuts! You're too mature for fun things like pranks, so I know that you'll still be stiff and curmudgeonly like usual. Go ahead, tell me exactly what you think of me for showing up today. Don't hold back, either. Give me everything you've got."

Germany looked at him blankly for a few seconds, before pulling him into tight, almost painful embrace. "Prussia, I'm so glad you're here…"

Prussia was sure that the sudden oxygen deprivation he was experiencing had caused him to hear wrong, because there was no way in the world that Germany was actually _glad_ to see Prussia at the meeting. Germany never liked disruptions, especially when they were awesome, Prussian disruptions. Then again, Germany never hugged anyone either. He was always very particular about respecting other people's personal space, even if the person he was talking to didn't care about such things.

"What did you… just say?" Prussia choked out, attempting to free himself from the death grip of his annoyingly strong little brother. He was starting to wish he hadn't had those three pieces of cake before coming here. It seemed that he was now suffering the consequences of disregarding his brother's earlier warning about getting sick if he consumed too much of it at once. Still, how was he supposed to know that West was going to pick today to start randomly giving out agonizingly enthusiastic hugs?

"I said, I'm happy you're here, big brother," Germany said sincerely, finally letting Prussia out of the surprise hug.

"You're… you're not mad at me for crashing the meeting?"

"Why would I be mad? I couldn't be happier that you came, Prussia. I always miss you when I have to leave for days at a time, but, now you're here, like you somehow knew that I was lonely! I don't know how to thank you."

"_Thank_ me?! West, you should be _yelling_ at me! I totally busted in here and made a commotion! You hate it when I do things like that! Why the heck do you think I act out so much? I try to embarrass you because I know that it gets on your nerves!"

"You _like_ seeing me angry? Why?"

"Well, because… because I…" Prussia honestly couldn't come up with an answer that did not involve an inexplicable desire for attention. "Just _because_, okay?" Irritated at the total diffusion of his plan to send the meeting room into chaos, Prussia tried to navigate around his mountain of a little brother. "Leave me alone, West, I need to find someone rational to talk to."

"I'm rational," Germany protested, looking rather hurt.

"No, you're not. If you were rational, you would be grumpy. You're always grumpy on World Conference weeks, because no one ever gets anything done!"

"We got some things done today," Germany said proudly.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I got some things done too, want to hear about it?" Prussia began constructing an elaborate and destructive scenario in his head. "This morning, I painted your bedroom bright pink and neon green, tried out my radical new paintball gun on the kitchen and the living room, and wrote '_Prussia equals Awesome_' in huge, colorful block letters on all of the walls. Our house now looks like it was hit with a rainbow atomic bomb. What do you have to say to _that_, huh?"

Germany looked thoughtful. "Well, it's not my usual style, but, if it makes you happy, then it's more than fine. I'm glad to hear that you're being creative. I was worried you'd be bored at home all by yourself."

"_Gaaaaaah_!" Prussia cried, too vexed for intelligibility. He had been pushed to his limits, and this situation definitely warranted a freak-out. "No, no, _no_! That's wrong, it's all wrong! Everything else was mildly weird, but this has gone too far! You shouldn't be 'fine' with it! You should be threatening to kill me, like in that note you left me this morning! Seriously, you're freaking me out, West! I'm bothered by the fact that I can't seem to bother you anymore!" He let out a moan of sheer anguish at the disturbing turn of events. "It just isn't fair…"

It made no sense. West had been totally cool with the fact that Prussia claimed to have trashed his house. No yelling, no unleashing of the trademark German fury, just calm, placid acceptance, and even _encouragement_ of the action.

Yeah, cue the apocalypse. If West had lost his edge, then the world was definitely ending.

"Prussia, why don't you sit down," Germany suggested.

"I don't wanna sit down!" Prussia wailed. "You people are all crazy! Crazy, I say! Why did you all choose today to jump off the deep end? I was looking forward to finding France and Spain so we could declare a prank war, but it won't be any fun if no one even cares that we're turning the meeting hall into a disaster area!"

Germany thought for a moment. "I suppose I could pretend to be perturbed, if it would make you feel better, big brother." With some effort, he pushed his features down into a frown. Oddly enough, a scowl had never looked more out of place of Germany's visage.

"Don't bother," Prussia grumbled, wholly unconvinced. "It's just not the same."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, _Bruderherz_?"

Prussia resisted the urge to gag. "For one, stop calling me _'brother dearest'_ and start calling me _'that useless freeloader in the basement'_ like you used to."

Germany drew back, startled. "Beg pardon?"

"Never mind. What have you guys been doing this morning, besides completely abandoning your sanity?"

"We're dividing up all the money and land equally, so no one has less than anyone else," Germany said. "We won't have to worry about anyone being poor ever again."

Just when Prussia thought that today absolutely, positively _could not_ get any worse…

"_Mein Gott_, West, have you gone insane? That's practically Communism!" Prussia froze, as an appalling thought struck him. "My word, it's Russia, isn't it? As revenge for that thumbtack prank earlier, he turned psychotic and brainwashed you all with his Soviet propaganda! Did he make you all _'become one'_; is _that_ what all this is about? _Verdammt_, as much as I hated that blasted wall, at least it kept you safe..."

He was so intent in his horrified musings that he barely noticed Germany leading him to a chair and gently sitting him down.

"Calm down, brother. We'll be fine, I promise."

"This isn't fine. _You're_ not fine. What happened, West? You were doing so well with that democracy shtick; I thought you'd finally gotten the hang of it. West, please, _please_ do not make me tell your boss that you've gone rogue puppet totalitarian regime again; I had a hard enough time convincing people you were sane the first time around…"

The last words were choked with completely reasonable anxiety, but in his awesome strength Prussia did not shed one tear. Maybe West was right, maybe things _would_ be fine.

Prussia could feel his brother's arms around him, massaging his back, as the blond murmured soft words of comfort in German.

_Wait, comfort? Since when does West try to comfort anyone?_

Maybe this was just a 24-hour flu bug or something. But since when did viruses make you amiable and touchy-feely?

More than anything, Prussia wanted to pull away and go find Russia, so the still-awesome ex-nation could get to the bottom of this mess, but Germany was so overwhelmed by the spontaneous brotherly bonding (which may or may not have been occurring, depending on which brother you asked,) that he was utilizing another quite unmanly but admittedly inescapable hug.

Only this one was less, _"Big brother, let me squeeze the air out of you from sheer delight,"_ than, _"Brother dearest, prepare to gag as I cuddle you in the most embarrassing possible way, in spite of the fact that the whole world is watching, and likely laughing their heads off and/or preparing to blast photos of us all over the internet with titles reading, 'Guess who got drunk at the World Conference?' "_.

Prussia refused to admit he was being nuzzled by his little brother. Such things simply did not happen. To accept that Germany had a soft side was akin to saying that the Rock of Gibraltar had a soft side. Germany was claustrophobic, haphephobic, pretty much any sort of 'phobic' you could come up with that involved someone disturbing his personal bubble or breaching propriety in any way.

Prussia also refused to admit that he couldn't find a way out of the mortifying embrace. Surely West (a strangely sappy West at that) was not powerful enough to restrain the awesome Prussia? Perhaps Gilbert Beilschmidt was unconscious and hallucinating as a result of that hit to the head from Elizabeta's frying pan.

Of course, that would raise the logical question of _why_ his mind felt it necessary to torture him with imaginary scenarios involving _verdammt _brotherly bonding time.

"I have an icepack!" Hungary cried gleefully from across the room.

"Oh, thank goodness," Prussia breathed. How bizarre, that he was actually _grateful_ for Hungary to arrive and provide questionable medical treatment.

But it might provide an escape from this potentially reputation-scarring snuggle session…

Yeah, when phrased like that, one could strike 'potentially'. He had to execute a strategic retreat from the meeting room (and the hotel, and London, and Great Britain, and possibly Europe), like, _right now_.

"West, seriously, cut it out, before someone finds a camera…"

"I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I saw you last, and I really missed you," Germany said, voice reverting to the importunate tone he'd used as a child when Prussia would frequently travel as Bismarck's representative.

"Last night," Prussia said flatly, "you saw me _last night_. We argued, remember? You lectured me about something stupid, and I shouted at you, and then you started shouting at me, and I think you even threw a couch pillow at my head; wasn't that fun? Don't you feel like resorting to needless anger and petty violence right now, rather than attempting the dysfunctional expression of our emotions?"

Germany pulled back, but kept his hands on Prussia's shoulders, preventing the albino's escape.

"Can we have a swordfight?" the blond asked, blue eyes shining with irrational excitement.

"A… swordfight?"

"_Ja_, like we used to! Back when I was little, we would fence all the time."

"West, you hated doing that. You would always complain that swords were clumsy and inefficient compared to firearms."

"But it's fun doing things with you! Please, brother? Can we? Can we?"

Prussia sighed. "I think I'll take that icepack now…"

* * *

Slovakia coughed into a handkerchief, before glancing at the clock for the fourth time in the past ten minutes.

When Prussia had come by the house to pick up the papers, Slovakia had very plainly told him to call when he was done. Surely one little job couldn't possibly take this long?

He probably should have sent Sudetenland, even if the boy really was too small to take a flight to England's home all by himself. As far as diplomatic matters went, Slovakia could dislike Sudetenland as much as he disliked Prussia (after all, neither one had a legitimate right to exist) but Czech still mothered the little boy at every opportunity, and so the personification of Slovakia had grudgingly re-accepted _Sudety_ as part of his 'family'.

"_Slovensko_, are you feeling better?" the brown-haired boy asked as he set a bowl of steaming broth on the table. He was dressed immaculately, in almost antiquated fashion, as though he'd stepped out of an old Easter photograph. He was a complete foil to Slovakia, who was still in his bathrobe and had not combed his hair or shaved his face in several days.

Slovakia cleared his throat. "_Nie_, I'm afraid not."

"I am glad I came over, then," Sudetenland said. "Do not worry, brother. _Ceska_ will be back by this evening."

"What? But the conference goes for several more days…"

"When I gave the Prussian our sister's speech, I told him to ask her to come back tonight. You are sick, and I cannot take care of you all by myself. Her only mandatory speech is scheduled for today, and after that Austria or Germany can take notes for her."

"That really wasn't necessary, _boy_," Slovakia said tersely. _'Sudetenland'_ was a frowned-upon term nowadays, and Slovakia still didn't feel wholly comfortable calling him a brother, so 'boy' was what wound up coming out most of the time.

"Neither was calling the Prussian to bring our sister her papers," the boy said. "She knows her topic well, she could have ad-libbed."

"I didn't want her to have to worry about anything."

"And I did not want _you_ to have to worry about anything. Our sister is better suited to care for you."

"You do have a point there." Slovakia swallowed a spoonful of the watery soup, then grimaced. "Who taught you to cook, England?"

"I did my best with the ingredients you had in your kitchen. And this happens to be a recipe that our sister taught me, for your information."

"It can't be. Our sister is an incredible cook. You must have done something incredibly wrong to make her broth taste like herbs strained in mud."

The boy scowled. "It will give you energy and clear your sinuses. Eat it."

Slovakia was too drained to debate with his willful younger sibling. He lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank from it, making a show of trying not to gag. It wasn't really all that bad, but the halfling boy did not have the cooking skills of his older siblings, and Slovakia was never going to let him forget it.

"Is it too strong?" the boy inquired. "Or not strong enough?"

Slovakia ignored the questions. "Leave me alone. You've done enough; I'll be fine."

"You are very sick. I am not leaving until our sister returns."

"I'm fine."

"You are not."

"I would be closer to fine if you left me alone."

The boy bit his lip. "I am doing my best to please you, _pane Slovensko_."

_Pane Slovensko_. Mister Slovakia. Not 'brother', not even just 'Slovakia'. _Mister_. So formal, so distant. The boy's constant fight for familial acceptance had come to a sudden and revealing lull.

"Thank you for the broth, boy," Slovakia mumbled halfheartedly, before blowing his nose. "Maybe you should go play outside for a while. I don't think our sister would want you to catch this."

"I'm too old to play outside." Though the boy looked young, he had actually been around for several hundred years.

"Go watch television, then."

"Modern television is generally a mind-rotting series of soap operas and tabloid-esque news programs. I would rather not waste my time."

Slovakia scoffed. "Then go read the encyclopedia, for crying out loud."

"Are you making fun of me?" the boy asked. "Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with reading the encyclopedia. It is a wonderful tool for research."

"Research, yes. But not leisure reading."

"Research can be a very leisurely pastime. I enjoy studying."

"Only you would say that, boy," said Slovakia. It was only half-true, though, just like everything else about the boy. Following the mandatory resettlement of his lands, Sudetenland's originally-blond hair had darkened to a light brown that was reminiscent of Czech Republic's, and his eyes had changed from cerulean to a strange sort of hazel, but the boy still looked and acted too much like Germany for comfort. So responsible, so orderly, so blunt. Not even Czech could get the brunet boy to relax.

"I think I will go take a look at today's newspaper," said the boy. "Finish your soup before it gets cold, _velký bratr_." The term of endearment was laced with subtle sarcasm. "I will be back to check on you in a few minutes."

Once the boy was out of the room, Slovakia let out an audible sigh. He _really_ should have sent Sudetenland in Prussia's place, if only to keep the much-too-serious boy out of his hair.

Ah, well. It was too late now.

#

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe America could still stop this. He could sneak out, run to England's place and look for an antidote. Spike everyone's drinks again and put a stop to the crazy.

Who was he kidding? He had torn the earth from its axis; there was no going back. All he could do was hang on for dear life and hope that the effects of the formula would level off soon.

America tried to figure out what he was going to tell his boss. There was always the possibility of lying, but then came the obvious question of why America was the only one who hadn't gone Communist.

Natural superhero immunity? Awesome foresight? Blind luck?

"This is a disaster," America moaned.

"What's wrong, America?"

America looked up to see Italy's amber eyes shining with concern.

"Wha… what makes you think something's wrong?"

"You're doing what Germany does when he's upset," Italy said simply.

"Huh?"

"Your head, in your hands. Germany does that."

"Does he?" America had never noticed any visible similarities between himself and the temperamental German man. Obviously they shared at least one subconscious habit. America made a mental note never to put his head in his hands again. He did not want people to think he was some sort of rigid drill sergeant who liked getting loads of paperwork on the weekends.

"What's wrong?" Italy asked again.

"Aw, it's nothing you can help with. I know you're practically _dying_ to act on my behalf, but really, I'm not interested." There was nothing Italy could do, nothing _anyone_ could do. Everyone was under the influence of a formula that had obviously been developed by the Russians, and planted in England's library. No one in the room could be of any benefit to America.

Well, that wasn't completely true. America had been keeping his eye on Prussia ever since the albino stormed in with papers for Czech Republic. However, at the moment, Prussia looked to be completely preoccupied with trying to talk his little brother out of something. The former kingdom's protests didn't appear to be working. Wait… was Germany trying to use the pointer rod from the blackboard as a _sword_?

Sealand seemed relatively sane as well, but he was just a little boy, and he was currently discussing the official country recognition process with England. Obviously Sealand would not want any of the countries back to normal; they would never recognize him as a nation if they were in their right minds.

Actually, once Prussia figured out what was really going on, he would probably be just as eager to manipulate the situation to his own benefit. No one would dare refuse him country status; all the albino had to do was grab a microphone and ask to be reinstated as the awesome Kingdom of Prussia, and he would be back on the map.

In an instant, America was alone and friendless once more. Why was it that everyone who wasn't annoyingly altruistic was infuriatingly selfish?

"They're acting strange, aren't they?" Italy murmured, as if reading America's thoughts.

"Yeah." _And it's all my fault._

"Do you have any idea why they're doing this? I mean, I like that they're getting along, but with all those agreements they made… I'm worried, I guess. Ve, I couldn't even get Romano to yell at me, and that's usually easy…"

The brilliant idea hit America like a radioactive meteorite.

"Hey, Veneziano?"

"_Si_?"

"What did you drink when I made that toast earlier?"

Italy laughed. "Silly America, I didn't drink anything! It was a _toast_, so I used the garlic toast from my lunch! Mm, that was good… I wonder when dinner is."

And just like that, hope came in the form of a ditzy Italian.

* * *

Translations

German

_Eins_, _zwei_, _drei_ - One, two, three

_Was ist los?_ - What's wrong?

Bruderherz - Brother dearest (literally, 'brother heart')

Czech/Slovak

_Slovensko_ - Slovakia

_Pane_ - Mister

_Ceska_ - Czech (Czech Republic)

_velký bratr_ - Big brother

_Sudety_ - Sudetenland

_Anglicko_ - England

* * *

A/N

I've been reevaluating the whole 'special universal nation language' theory that I postulated last chapter. I'd assumed that the nations must have some special language that they all knew, something in the vein of Esperanto (only natural instead of developed), but I think it would in fact be possible for the nations would be able to learn enough of each other's languages that basic communication would be possible. However, this particular story really isn't meant to be taken seriously, and I felt there were just too many nations and languages for "Oh, well, guess they all just know [insert language here] well enough that they can all speak to each other in that." In future stories, I will likely work a bit more of a language barrier in there, and do a bit more explaining, but hopefully those stories won't have as many countries and languages to keep track of, all in one room. I might eventually go back and try to rework the concept here as well, but for now it will remain as it is.

In respect to Slovakia calling Sudetenland 'boy' all the time: During the period following WWII, the term 'Sudetenland' was extremely frowned upon, and even outlawed in Czechoslovakia, since the word had such strong German connotations (it was a German word, originally, and referred to the areas of Czechoslovakia that were inhabited mostly by ethnic Germans). Therefore, Slovakia still protests his brother's German influence by refusing to call the boy by his old name.


End file.
